Xander’s Job
by ozma914
Summary: Xander’s having a really great day. This being the Whedonverse, such a moment of happiness can’t possibly last ... sure enough, the person he least wants to see shows up with some very bad news. postChosen
1. Bad News

_Special thanks to Ainon, Xander's biggest fan, who agreed to beta for me._

----

Xander Harris was having a really, really good day.

He looked around at the bustling activity in the fifteenth floor of a Chicago high-rise, directly above the new headquarters of the Watcher's Council, and reflected on how well his life was going. Now that the purchase of this floor was complete, and the permit process finished, Xander was running a renovation project that would finally relieve their overcrowding. After all, the floor below had been designed as an emergency backup for the now destroyed London headquarters -- not as a base for not only the watchers and staff, but several dozen slayers.

Faith sauntered by the table on which Xander had laid out the renovation plans. Although she'd balanced a stack of drywall over her head, she still managed to turn and grin at him. "You look happy, boss."

"Well, I'm standing here and everyone else is doing the work, so -- there you go."

She winked, showing she wasn't fooled at all, and went on. Even Faith wasn't throwing him for a loop, not today.

Smiling, Xander examined the blueprints again. Everything was on schedule. The slayers would still share dorms, but they'd be four to one room instead of a dozen to a smaller room. They'd have a much better kitchen facility, a classroom -- after all, most of the slayers still needed schooling, whether they liked the idea or not -- and lots more closet space. Best of all, each room would have its own bathroom -- and hadn't Xander pulled out some hairs getting the plumbing figured out.

Best of all, each watcher would have his own room. Not closets converted into rooms, but actual rooms, with closets of their own. And Xander, by official declaration of the Council, was a full fledged watcher.

Xander chose to ignore the fact that Giles was the only member of the Council at the moment, and that Xander, Robin and Richard Philips made up the entire roster of regular watchers. Why look a gift horse in the mouth?

"Xander!" Buffybot walked by, carrying a load of aluminum wall studs. "Isn't this great? It's like -- birth! Only without the mess."

"It sure is, Bottie. Great, I mean." He shook his head, still a bit amazed that the dismembered robot could be functional again even after a magical repair job. Not that he was complaining, considering Bottie had been working nonstop since early that morning. When everyone else stopped for lunch, she'd cheerfully kept hauling material around, her whistling echoing around the vast empty space. When had Bottie learned to whistle, anyway?

Thanks in part to her, the wall frames were mostly up, a forest of aluminum studs that had begun to reveal how the rooms would be laid out. Xander had been taken aback at first, when he realizing Chicago's high-rise building ordinance wouldn't allow him the wooden materials he was most familiar with, but he'd found himself just as adept with noncombustible materials.

So now there he was, large and in charge, doing what he knew best -- and, he confessed, loved best. The slayers, no doubt anxious to get into larger quarters, had thrown themselves into the work, and although mostly untrained were certainly one of the most eager and hard working crews he'd ever supervised. Robin was supervising distribution of tools and materials. Richard, although recovering from an illness, was managing the necessary red tape and paperwork, while young watcher-in-training Jason got food, drinks, and similar supplies to the workers -- something of a challenge, considering how quickly several dozen slayers worked up an appetite.

And they all -- every one of them, including the occasional contractor Xander called in for specialized work -- deferred to one Mr. Alexander Harris, the Head Guy in Charge. Too bad Giles was out of town, because Xander surely would have told him to do something. Maybe hang toward the back and avoid danger, or research the history of ceiling tiles.

Nah. Giles would enjoy the researching too much.

It took a moment for Xander to realize the buzz of noise had started to die down. The girls tended to be even louder than the average construction crew, and he'd quickly learned to tune out the constant noise of conversation, laughter, and tool work. Now they began to quiet, and just as Xander became aware of it he overheard Vi murmur, "If that's what an electrician looks like, hook me up."

An instant later something crashed to the ground, and Xander looked up to see Faith, barely visible through the labyrinth of studs, had dropped her load. Not far away Bottie was frozen in place, still holding a stack of studs.

Dana had been standing close to the robot, holding a stud while Kara secured it. She glanced behind her, then spun around with a panicked squeak, while Kara struggled to keep the material in place. "Xander --!"

But Xander had already seen the object of their attention, sweeping down a soon-to-be hallway in that all too familiar smooth, dangerous manner. The dark haired man's black coat swept out behind him, making it seem like some scene out of a Matrix movie. Some of the slayers swooned; those who knew him, or who sensed what he was, just stared.

He stopped in front of the table, taking Xander in with a gaze that was piercing, but strangely sad. "Harris."

Rooted to the spot, Xander managed to blurt out, "Slayers!"

In an instant, they were ringed by girls. Xander winced at the sound of wooden forms being torn to pieces for makeshift weapons, but it occurred to him that he should have ignored the codes and went with all wooden partitions, for just such a situation. "So, Angel ... or is it Angelus? Which side are you playing this week?"

Angel glanced around at their tense audience. "Nothing's changed."

"Good enough for me." Xander grabbed up a wooden T square and brandished it before him.

"Hey! Wait a minute!" Faith shouldered her way through the line, stopping beside Xander. "Don't go off halfcocked."

"Fine, I'll go off all-cocked." He gestured with his improvised weapon. "Not only is he in charge of just any evil organization, he's in charge of an evil _law firm._ You just can't get more evil than that, unless you're a politician."

But from his right, beside Bottie, he heard a faint voice. "Angel's good. He tried to help me."

Angel glanced that way, and for the first time since the vampire arrived, Xander saw a flicker of expression on his face. "Buffy --? Buffybot ... I heard about ..." He shook himself. "Dana. How are you?"

"Better." Dana's hands were clasped together, and she looked ready to flee. "I have bad days." Bottie put her arm around the dark haired slayer.

"I'm glad you're ... up."

"Wait a minute," Xander interrupted. "I'm sorry, Dana, but you don't know --"

"If Dana says Angel's good," Bottie insisted, with a determined glare, "Then Angel's good."

"What?" How could Xander point out how ridiculous that statement was without insulting Dana? She still wasn't Miss Stability.

"Hear him out," Faith said. "He has to be here for a reason."

"It won't hurt to listen," Robin added.

What was going on? Didn't they know Alexander Harris was in charge? Or were they only willing to listen to him when construction was the only challenge they faced? He waved the T square, seething at the thought that Angel could just walk in and turn everyone's heads. "We don't even know how he got here! The elevator alarm didn't go off, the stairs are monitored --"

"Helicopter," Angel supplied. "I didn't get down to the fourteenth floor, so the monitors didn't go off."

Xander stared at him. No one had ever thought about invaders coming from above? "It's the middle of the afternoon."

"Very good," Angel snapped, but the flash of temper immediately vanished again. "Window tinting. Very good window tinting on the helicopter, supplied by the afore mentioned evil law firm. Which we're trying to make changes with, by the way."

"Before it changes you?" Robin asked, with more than a hint of irony.

"Wait a minute." Xander held up a hand, realized he still held the T square, and -- feeling a bit foolish about needing to defend himself in a room full of slayers -- dropped it. "Let's get to the important stuff. How did you find us?"

Angel shrugged. "Spike found out you were in Chicago when he and your team went after those demon eggs in Cleveland."

A half dozen voices shouted simultaneously, "Spike!"

Xander picked up the T square again. "Spike's dead. Spike's supposed to be dead. Buffy told me Spike was dead."

"He burned in the Hellmouth," Faith added, sounding considerably less hysterical.

Xander overheard Buffybot whisper to Dana, "Spike had me created, so I suppose he's my father. Although considering what he did to me afterward --"

Before Xander could scream at her to stop, Dana interrupted. "I cut his hands off in L.A. It was wrong. He tried to help me."

The room became totally silent. Slowly, Xander turned toward Dana, trying not to shake as he felt his face redden. "Dana. You knew Spike was alive?"

She looked confused. "Didn't you?"

Then that meant every slayer who went on the mission to retrieve Dana ... Xander's gaze landed on Chantel, the first slayer he saw who'd gone to Los Angeles. Blushing, she looked away.

Okay. Cleveland ... demon egg ... that would have to be the eggs used to cure Dana. Who went on that -- "Robin!"

Behind the line of slayers, the top of a bald head froze in the act of sneaking away.

"Kara -- you too. And Andrew! Andrew must have been the first to know. I'm going to go to Italy and pound his skinny ass. All of you knew Spike was alive?"

The crowd parted, revealing an abashed Robin. Across the room, Faith glared at him. "You didn't tell _me_?"

"I ... um ..."

"We thought," Kara interjected, "That it would be less painful if people didn't know."

"People?"

"Buffy," Robin clarified. "It seemed the fewer people who knew, the better."

The watchers should have known, Xander thought bitterly. He should have known. "So now it's Angel and Spike, together again? And you're still going to tell me Wolfram and Hart isn't evil."

"Wolfram and Hart is evil," Angel told him. "But we're not. Not even Spike, although he's still a pain in the ass. We're working to change things."

"You think sneaking into the watcher's headquarters is going to prove that?"

Angel heaved a sigh. "You're still alive, aren't you? If I wanted to take you out, I could have brought in a strike team before you even knew what hit you. Now, would you forget Wolfram and Hart? I'm here for a much more important reason."

Xander felt a pain in his hand, and realized the T square was cutting into his palm. He forced open his fist, letting it clatter again to the table. "What reason?"

Angel hesitated, looking around. "I need to speak to the original members of the Scooby gang."

Ha! Like he'd give Mr. Hair Gel the satisfaction of knowing where the others were. "Buffy's indisposed."

"In Italy, I know. But the rest of you --"

Ah, jeez. "Giles and Willow are on the east coast. Of this continent, I mean. You want to talk to somebody, I'm in charge." Xander glared around, but no one disputed him.

"Fine. But we need to talk alone."

"I don't think so." This from Richard, who had an arm wrapped around a wall stud to stay upright. Xander realized he should have told the older man to stay in bed until he was fully recovered, but there were more urgent matters to attend to now.

"This is all of us," Xander told the vampire. "We're the Scooby gang, now. We're family. There's nothing you can say to me that they shouldn't hear." Even as he spoke, Xander realized there were many times when the gang had kept secrets from one or more of them, for one reason or another. Often good reasons. But he just couldn't give an inch when it came to Tall and Broody, who it seemed had been showing him up since the day Buffy came to Sunnydale and turned everyone's life upside down.

"This is private business," Angel protested. "Personal business, about something the rest of them haven't dealt with. And it's bad news."

"Bad news?" Shoving the table aside, Xander shoved a finger in Angel's face, his anger clouding the memory of those times the vampire had bested him. "You want to talk about bad news? This morning my life was going better than it ever has. Now you come prancing in with that long coat and that hair, and all of the sudden I'm not in charge anymore, and Spike's alive, and people are hiding things from me, and everything's right back in the pits again."

"Xander --"

"No. I don't know who I can trust, or who would take orders from me for anything besides driving a screw in, or what my place even is anymore. There's nothing you can say to embarrass me any more than you already have, and there's nothing you can say to make me feel worse. Now, if you've got something to tell me, say it _right now_."

"Cordelia's dead."

Xander stared at him, blinking once. Then his legs gave out.

He saw down hard on the concrete floor, but a moment later strong hands lifted him into a chair. Faith, of all people, held him close, and he stared at her in confusion for a moment before the tears started flowing.

People died. In his world, people died all the time. Anya, of course. Jenny, Jessie, Tara, Joyce ... Buffy, twice. The list was endless. They'd already known Cordelia was in a coma -- why did this effect him so? But the tears flowed. For her, for him, for everything lost.

Most of the slayers stood in an awkward circle, while Faith kept her arms around him and a few -- Vi, Rona, others who had been with them in Sunnydale -- hurried forward to put comforting hands on his arms and shoulders. Dana looked away, resting her head on the robot's shoulder. Richard shuffled forward to touch his daughter, Kara, protectively on the arm. Robin started tapping shoulders, sending the others silently, one by one, toward the stairway. Almost no one here had known Cordelia, but Xander's reaction was explanation enough.

When Xander could see again, his eye sought out Angel. The vampire still stood, rooted to the spot, and Xander half expected to see sadistic triumph in his eyes. Instead, there was sorrow. "How --"

"She never came out of the coma." Angel's voice shook for a moment, then strengthened. "I got a phone call. She'd just ... passed on. I was going to call, but it seemed too ... impersonal."

Xander nodded, his grief fading into an awful numbness. "There was no ..."

"No pain. She didn't suffer."

It took a moment more for Xander to catch his breath. "She's on some heavenly Rodeo Drive. Shopping."

Angel nodded. "New shoes. A purse."

"Color coordinated." The room was mostly empty, now. Xander felt a headache, centered behind the patch where his eye used to be. "I wonder if that's what Heaven was, to her. A chance to be shallow again."

"Maybe. She stopped being shallow here on Earth. You'd have been proud of her."

As if suddenly realizing what she was doing, Faith extricated herself from Xander, but stayed kneeling by his side. "I'll get ahold of the others," she murmured

"I can do it," Angel offered. "I can take the copter, tell them in person."

"No." Standing unsteadily, Xander wiped his face with the sleeve of his work shirt. "I'll do it. It's my job."

Someone he didn't bother to identify started to protest, but Xander shook his head. "No. I'm in charge." That's what it meant. To deal with the good days, but also the bad. To do what had to be done. At that thought, he looked to Angel. "Your helicopter ..."

"Fueled and ready. I'll take you wherever you need to go."

Xander nodded, not bothered at having to ask for the help. Sometimes the boss had to do unpleasant things. "Spread the word to keep quiet about Spike. They'll have enough to deal with."

The others murmured agreement, and watched silently as Xander left to change into better clothes. He needed to look his best -- it was part of the deal, part of life. Just like bad days were.

And this was a really bad day.


	2. Conversation With a Dead Person

What a ride, Xander thought, looking around the interior of Wolfram & Hart's private jet.

Just the fact that he was in a private jet was remarkable enough. Come to think of it, why didn't the Watcher's Council own a jet? Or at least a helicopter? After all, there was a heliport on the roof of their Chicago building, although he hadn't known it until today. They owned cars, vans, even an ambulance, and though the old Council had been wiped out, Giles still seemed to have access to some deep pockets. Couldn't they have one X-Men style hidden jet? Circling the globe, swooping down on demons and vampires --

Shaking himself, Xander glanced over at the vampire sitting silently across the narrow aisle from him. Angel hadn't said two words since they transferred from the chopper to the jet at Midway Airport; he just sat there, staring straight ahead. Xander was getting antsy from the silence, which helped explain his mental diarrhea. "It'll be dark by the time we reach Hartford. No canopies necessary."

Angel glanced at him. "There'll be a limo waiting for us."

"Gee, it's just like going to the prom again." That made Xander think of Anya, and now it was his turn to retreat into a moody silence.

"What's Giles doing in Hartford?" Angel suddenly asked, and Xander realized the silence must be getting to him, too.

"Insurance stuff. Apparently crime fighting headquarters are hard to insure. He was supposed to meet with some consultant a few days ago, but there was a scheduling problem, so Giles spent the time on the beach, watching bikini ladies and drinking long necks."

A smirk crossed Angel's face. At first Xander thought it was at the thought of Giles on the beach, but then he realized what else it could be. "I mean long neck beer bottles, not long necked bikini ladies."

"That reminds me: There's a bar back there, if you're interested."

Xander shook his head. "I gave it up. Turns out that stuff's bad for you, especially if you try to make it a family tradition."

Angel merely grunted, and they fell again into an uncomfortable silence. Xander looked out the window for awhile, but even though the glass was supposedly tinted to keep Angel safe, the vampire kept the curtain closed on his side. When Xander could stand it no longer, he spoke again. "So, how's it been going? Anything interesting in the big city?"

For a moment he thought Angel wasn't going to answer. Then, without looking at Xander, Angel said, "I turned into a puppet recently."

"Oh." To show how much his life had changed in the last decade, Xander didn't even question it. "How'd that work out for you?"

"I didn't like it much."

"Too bad." Irked by the feeling Angel wouldn't have mentioned it, if not for the bad day Xander was having, he tried to think of some way to rile up his travel partner. "Did you have -- parts?"

"Parts?"

"You know ... parts. Man parts."

Now Angel did turn to look at him. "I didn't check."

"You didn't --" That's the first thing Xander would have checked for, but he had a feeling admitting that wouldn't make him look good.

"My nose could come off," Angel offered. "I don't think I'd have like it if ... other parts were detachable."

"That would be freaky," Xander agreed. At least he had a good idea what tonight's nightmares were going to involve.

Angel cleared his throat, which started Xander's thoughts on a tangent about whether vampires needed to clear their throats, or whether it was a habit. "How about -- all of you? I haven't kept up much since you left California."

But, Xander thought, somehow he knew they were in Chicago. "Not much to speak of. A Cheeseman who haunted our dreams brought all the dead slayers back to life so he could take over the world. Had a big fight, blew things up, the ghosts of our dead friends came back to help us ... pretty much the usual."

Angel turned to stare at him. "Cheeseman?"

"Yeah. Also there was this singing, dancing demon, but the Cheeseman was the big ... cheese."

"Bald guy, cheap suit? Comes into your dreams, always talks in riddles about dairy products?"

"Yeah." Did vampires dream? "Have you had a run-in with him?"

Angel looked away. "Nah."

Neither spoke again until the pilot's voice emerged from the loudspeaker, announcing they were on final approach. Then, as one, both breathed, "Thank God."


	3. Epiphany, Part 1

_Thanks for the reviews; after some consideration, I've concluded this story doesn't have a plot, as such -- it's about the journey, to coin a phrase. That's a difficult confession, coming from a plot-centric writer! (It might just have a theme, but I'll leave that to the reader.) For those of you who recognize the insurance adjuster, yes -- there's a crossover in my future._

------

When Giles was ushered into the office, the large man behind the oak desk immediately rose to give him a firm handshake. "Mr. Giles, welcome." He offered Giles a chair, waiting until his visitor sat before taking a seat himself.

"I'm terribly sorry to have kept you waiting," Richard Gilmore said as Giles settled into the soft leather.

"Not at all." Giles had an immediately good feeling about the man. Gilmore's office was tastefully furnished, with a bookshelf of expensive looking volumes and a huge, neatly arranged desk. The man himself wore what appeared to be a custom tailored tan suit, complete with a burgundy silk handkerchief. "Nothing serious, I hope?"

"Not at all ..." Gilmore hesitated for a moment. "If I may ask, do you have any children?"

Giles shook his head. "Not biologically, but I think of my charges as my children." One especially, although explaining that would be complicated.

"Yes, of course." Gilmore sighed. "My daughter's chosen a challenging life for herself, and sometimes it becomes a bit too challenging. It can also be a challenge to get her off the phone when she needs to vent a bit." With a dismissive wave, he pulled out a file folder and opened it. "Now -- to business. All this information is on our computers, but I much prefer to stay away from those infernal machines."

Giles liked this man more with every passing moment.

"It's a commendable thing you're doing, operating a nonprofit boarding school for gifted ladies. Since opening your doors in Chicago there's been only one claim, involving a chemistry lab accident that sent several of your charges and some instructors to the hospital."

"With only minor injuries," Giles reminded him, having been prepared for this. "Overnight stays for observation, for the most part. In any case, we're opening a new floor that will include a state of the art, very safe computer lab."

"Ah, yes -- your assistant, Mr. Harris, included a copy of the plans." Gilmore shuffled through the papers. "Your school for gifted young women involves a high degree of physical education, as I understand it. Also, it's based on two floors of a downtown Chicago high rise, which calls into question issues of fire and crime safety. But all those concerns can be addressed, and for the life of me I can't understand why the major insurance companies are refusing to cover you. With the one exception, you have an impeccable safety record."

Something about that tickled at Giles' conscious. He couldn't place what bothered him -- other than that Gilmore apparently hadn't dug far into their history, yet. He sat back, wondering why a good safety record seemed wrong, somehow.

Gilmore apparently took his expression the wrong way. "Don't worry, Mr. Giles, we'll work this out. Do you mind giving me a couple of days to dig further into the situation? Perhaps a further review of your insurance history will lead us in the right direction."

Or the wrong. But there was nothing to be done about it, so Giles nodded. "As it happens, I'd planned to meet with some associates in a little place nearby, Star's Hollow. I haven't found --" He stopped short at Gilmore's shocked expression.

"You're joking! That's serendipitous -- my daughter runs a very nice bed and breakfast in that town. If you'll hold on just a moment, I'll see if she has a place available." He paused, then added, "I'll make sure she doesn't give you a room next to those two young ladies who've been raising so much cain."

Serendipitous, indeed! Carefully keeping his expression neutral, Giles merely said, "Two young ladies?"

"Yes, they're ..." Gilmore had lifted the phone receiver, but now he placed it back in its cradle. "Ah, they're dating. Each other, if you catch my meaning."

"Of course."

"Not that there's anything wrong with that!" Gilmore hurried to add, lifting his hand. "Connecticut is quite an open minded state, I assure you. But they're young and -- ah -- rambunctious, as it were. Lorelei -- my daughter -- tells me they're in and out at all hours, and somewhat noisy when they are in. And, although they haven't been caught at it, the town rumor mill holds that they've been looking for trouble, and getting into fights all across the area."

Good heavens. "Being around rambunctious girls is something I'm quite used to, I assure you." While he waited for Gilmore to make the phone call, Giles mentally kicked himself. During their last conversation Giles had gotten cross with Willow, convinced she and Kennedy were blowing off their duties to take some unauthorized vacation time with the Council's money. Instead, it appeared there really was trouble in the little town, as the young witch claimed. Clearly, he owed them an apology.

"It's all set -- there's a room available for as long as you need it, and now I'll know where to get in touch with you." Standing, Gilmore gave him another firm handshake. After getting directions, Giles took his leave and walked out into the hallway.

He wondered if he should call for more help. Faith was available, and Robin, although Xander was busy with the expansion project. Richard should stay behind, since he was still recovering from his illness, but Jason could be quite helpful in a fight. The young slayers should all stay safely where they were, of course, training and --

That's when it hit him. Giles stopped short just before reaching the elevator, and stood there while a shock of recognition ran down his spine. Protect the slayers? He had well over a hundred of them, and he barely let them out of the building except for the occasional stroll through what turned out to be empty Chicago area graveyards. With few exceptions, the only time he let even the most senior of them out of the city was to collect another new slayer, who was also quickly shut into the headquarters.

He wasn't supposed to be protecting the slayers. He was supposed to be sending them out to protect others, people who didn't have their power or their knowledge. Somewhere along the line, after seeing so much death, he'd started walling them up -- shutting them off from the rest of the world. He didn't want to see another slayer dead. The only challenge to them since Willow's spell released their powers had been inside the headquarters, when a magically charged Dana trashed the gym, and everyone in it.

Giles' shoulders slumped, as the force of knowing what he had to do hit him. For the first time, he realized how terribly difficult it must have been to the original Watcher's Council. As a watcher, he had to send only one slayer out to her untimely death. As a Council, they had to search each one out, so that she could be trained and then die, one after another. If they allowed themselves to consider it at all, they must have spent many a sleepless night.

"I've been a fool," Giles murmured to himself. He hadn't been preparing them to battle evil at all. He'd been imprisoning them, trying to keep them safe. But that wasn't how it worked. Taking a deep breath, Giles reached for his cell phone. He'd call the older ones out first -- Vi perhaps, Rona, and of course Faith. Buffy? She'd earned her retirement, but he could no longer coddle the rest of them. If things were as bad in Star's Hollow as Richard Gilmore had made out, he'd better show up with warriors.

The elevator doors opened, and Giles glanced up.

With an incoherent cry, he dropped the cell phone and crashed into the opposite wall, then grabbed for the cross in his pocket as Angelus marched toward him.

"Giles! It's all right!" Xander stepped around the vampire, clutching Giles' arm. "He's not bad. On average."

"Oh, really?" Giles kept his hand in his pocket, partially to clutch the cross and partially so the two men standing before him wouldn't see it shake. "Why did you come to Hartford, Angel? While we're on the subject, what are you two doing together?"

Angel just stood there, giving him a bleak look. Giles wondered if they were both remembering a certain incident involving torture and, if so, whether the vampire was suffering guilt from the memory about. He wasn't above hoping so.

"He's providing me with transportation," said Xander, who Giles noticed was also looking a bit down.

"Transportation?" His suspicions aroused, Giles stared at the pair. "Why? I hope I'm not expected to believe your law firm has started doing pro bono work for widows and orphans."

"Some widows," Angel shot back, but his heart didn't seem to be in the response.

"I wanted to tell you in person." Xander drew a deep breath. "About Cordelia."

"Cordelia? Is she out of her coma?" Even as he said it, Giles knew he was about to hear something much, much worse.

"No, she's ... she's ..." Xander swallowed, and rubbed a clenched fist against his cheek.

Angel took a step forward and, to Giles' amazement, put a hand on Xander's shoulder. "She passed away, Giles."

Giles removed his hand from his pocket, without the cross. Rivers of memory poured through his mind: Cordelia Chase shooting insults, wearing that ridiculous cheerleading outfit, whining about doing research but staying anyway. That girl has been so annoying. So clueless in her way, while sharp as a knife at the same time. So brave. "What happened?" he asked quietly.

"There was too much damage," Angel told him, his voice equally quiet. "She never woke up."

"I see." Giles drew a deep sigh. Here it was, then, real life. Back to haunt him. "You're contacting the original group in person." He'd never been particularly thrilled about the idea of calling them the "Scoobies". Besides, didn't Hana-Barbara have some kind of copyright on that term?

Xander nodded. "I was hoping we could all get together to ... say goodbye."

The younger man seemed more torn up than Giles would have imagined, considering the death they'd seen over the past several years, but perhaps this was a delayed response to everything he'd lost. To Giles, the surprising thing was the haggard expression on Angel's face. The vampire looked as if he'd lost a true love, rather than an associate. Of course, he and Cordelia had probably become friends after finding each other in Las Angeles -- assuming Angel was capable of having friends while being drawn into an evil law firm. In any case, this wasn't about Angel, so Giles determined to hold his mistrust inside, for now.

"It's an excellent idea," he told Xander. "As it happens, I was on my way to meet with Willow. We'll collect her, and then head off to retrieve Buffy."

When he said the Slayer's name Giles glanced at Angel, and was secretly satisfied to see the vampire wince.


	4. Road Trip From Hell

_Thanks for all the great reviews; now I'm practically swimming in egotism. :-) As always, special thanks to Ainon for her beta skills._

_A note for J( ) -- by the way, is that your real name? -- you're right, this story is supposed to take place just before "A Hole in the World" -- I didn't want to add that baggage to everything else that was going on, but I should have made my spot in the timeline more clear. Frankly, the Angel S5 timeline has been giving me fits: I'm just not that mentally organized._

_I also have a bad habit of wanting all my characters to get along, which makes for a happy life but poor fiction, so I offer this: proof that neither Giles nor Angel will ever ask the other to be his best man at a wedding._

_00----00_

Not for the first time in his life, Xander wanted to be somewhere else. Anywhere.

"We're changing the system from the inside," Angel insisted, leaning across the back seat of a Mercedes that was cruising down a Connecticut interstate.

Well, there was when he was tied spread-eagle and impaled, his blood being spilled to open the Hellmouth. Xander had wanted to be somewhere else much more that time.

"People in positions of ultimate power don't change; they become changed." Giles also leaned across the seat, his chin jutting out as he again struggled to make his point.

Unfortunately, Xander was in the middle of the seat.

"We're making progress. We fired a lot of them, changed policy --"

"Fired them? Where are they now, on the unemployment line?" Giles threw an arm out, almost hitting Xander in the face. "Or has this given them the opportunity to throw off what little reason they had for control? Have you looked at the crime statistics in that city lately?"

When he'd been in a cage, and a giant substitute teacher insect had been about to rape him and bite his head off -- just about anybody would have to admit that was worse than this.

"I beheaded an employee just the other day! When's the last time you beheaded an evil employee?"

"That's exactly my point -- my 'employees' aren't evil!"

"Tell that to the one who cut Spike's hands off!"

Giles recoiled as if struck. "Spike?"

There was being under Dracula's thrall. Actually, that hadn't seemed so unpleasant at the time. That was a close one.

"Spike's alive." Angel seemed to relish breaking the news, seeing as how Giles didn't like Spike any more than Angel did. "He's just as much an ass as he always was, but he was resurrected with his soul intact, and he was actually trying to help Dana when she sliced off fifty percent of his limbs."

To his credit, Giles rebounded quickly, and didn't even question the why's and how's. "Dana suffered mental problems, you know that. Besides, I'm willing to make a blind assumption that Spike is hardly a good candidate for employee of the month."

Now Angel pulled back, giving Xander some much needed breathing room. The vampire opened his mouth, then closed it again, apparently unwilling to defend Spike under any circumstances. They rode on that way for awhile, in a cold silence.

Having a sword-length knife aimed at him by an undead bully. That had been worse, at least for a short time. Other than that, Xander couldn't think of anywhere he wanted to be less, except at a family reunion. "Say, is that a wet bar?"

Angel glanced at the compartment before them. "Help yourself."

"You got Pepsi?"

"Coke."

"Wow, you people really are evil." Xander opened the compartment, found a well chilled soda, and popped it open. "Giles?"

The watcher was hunched against the door, his arms crossed. "Do they have any whiskey?"

Drunk Giles -- never good. Unfortunately, there was another compartment right next to the fridge. "Um, Jack Daniels."

"Bloody hell." After a moment, Giles reached in and took the bottle and a glass. "Nothing smoother from the colonies."

"Spike's choice, he likes the kick." Angel pulled out a plastic container that held a red liquid.

"Here's blood in your eye!" Xander held his can out, but all he got in return was two dirty looks. "Why do I talk?"

As they drank, Giles gave Angel a long, disapproving look. Then he gestured outside, at the brightly lit scenery flashing by. "Would you care for some fresh air, Angel? I could lower the windows." Angel flashed him a cold glare.

Xander rolled his eyes. The one that was left, anyway, which probably didn't have near the effect as two would. That little truce had lasted, what, five minutes? "Are we there yet?"

"No," the other two said together.

"Then how about some quality communication time? Giles, Angel may think you have a stick up your ass, but he was a different person when he tortured you. Angel, Giles really does have a stick up his ass, but he's still a good guy. Can we get along for one freaking day?"

Giles knocked down a glass full of whiskey before turning to Xander. "I don't think you truly understand ... Xander, he killed Jenny, for God's sake. Killed her, and left her body for me to find. The other things he did pale in comparison. Do you know what it's like to be told I have to treat him as a friend, now?"

"Gee, I don't know ... Faith and Willow both tried to kill me, Dana smashed me into a wall, and the two vampires I want to stake the most are off limits because they've got souls. My first best friend got turned, and guess who had to stake him? All but one of my girlfriends have turned out to be evil monsters of one kind or another, and oh -- guess what? The one who wasn't evil -- most of the time -- just died. So, do you suppose I have any idea what it's like to go through some emotional highs and lows, oh watcher who has two eyes?"

Giles stared at him for a long moment, then looked away. "Point taken."

Turning to Angel, Xander added, "And the next time I make a blood or an eye joke, I want you to at least acknowledge that I'm keeping my sense of humor in the face of -- everything."

"Sorry."

Xander turned to Giles, who squared his shoulders as if making a huge sacrifice. "I'm also sorry."

Well ... Xander the peacemaker, Nobel Prize nominee, object of womanly desire. Score one for the Xan Man.

"It's just ..." Not seeing Xander's desperate hand gestures, Giles went on. "The phrase 'absolute power corrupts absolutely' is a cliché for a reason -- it's very true. You've never had the kind of power that's in your hands now, Angel. It might not be in your nature to handle it well."

"In my nature?" Angel slammed the empty blood container into the cooler, then whirled on Giles. "I'm not Angelus, Giles. What do you know of my nature?"

"That's my point entirely -- it's not your vampire nature that's a danger, it's your human nature. You have no concept of what a man will do to keep that power, once it's attained."

"No concept! I've been around hundreds of more years than you --"

"Well, you haven't spent much of that time maturing, have you?"

'"I should push you right out of this car."

"Go right ahead, the sunlight would do us all some good."

"You dried out English --"

"Dried out? I could still kick your cockney arse."

Xander tried to sink back into the leather seat, and wished to be somewhere else. Anywhere.


	5. Tara's Point of View

_**This chapter is a bit different, and involves an unplanned appearance by a very important character -- and also first person narrative, a first for me in fanfiction. Thanks again to Ainon for the beta, keeping me from embarrassing myself ... and to Molossus, who inspired a single line in this story -- she'll know which -- that I included in the hopes of steering people to a reading of her wonderful and offbeat story, "The Sorrowful Tale of Miss Kitty Fantastico".**_

...----...

Star's Hollow, Connecticut, is a magical place. I mean that literally -- there's some kind of ward around the town that protects it from the worst of the outside world, making it a kind of Mayberry throwback where doors are left unlocked and everyone knows everyone else. It has a population of almost ten thousand, not too much smaller than the number inside old Sunnydale's city limits, but there's just one tiny business district, surrounding an idyllic town square. It's a bedroom community: no industry, no large employers, no sprawling shopping centers, and far enough from the interstate to avoid attracting attention. It's like the yin to Sunnydale's yang. Or is that the other way around?

Someone -- or something -- is protecting it. That, I think, is what attracted Willow and Kennedy: they were looking for an escape, some place where the monsters and spirits wouldn't be found. For the same reason, I had trouble passing into the town.

My name is Tara McClay, and I'm what most people would call a ghost.

I've never considered myself politically correct, what with having been a lesbian witch and all, but instead of "ghost", I prefer the term spirit. Actually, I also prefer the term wicca, and I'm not too keen on lesbian, either. There are a lot of spirits out there. We stay close to the mortal plane for various reasons: unfinished business, strong emotions, denial ... in my case, it might have been a combination of all three.

You see, I had just made up with my lover, and we were looking forward to a happy life together, when I was killed by a bullet meant for her best friend. And yes, I do recognize the irony of that. So it was the unfinished business that held me close to the earth at first, then the guilt I felt when grief caused Willow, my lover, to lose control of her magical powers and go on a killing spree.

Later, a strange little demon who most people called Cheeseman stole my physical body and used it to open a magical portal, leading to a battle between the living slayers and the dead ones who he let back into the world, under his control. I was pretty much over the guilt by then -- after all, it wasn't my fault that the collapse of the Sunnydale hellmouth removed the magical wards Willow used to protect my grave. But I was one of the spirits drawn to assist the slayers in their battle, and I was glad to help.

After that I should have gone over. Willow was happy with her new lover, there was no apocalypse on the horizon, and a very nice man came to tell me I had a place in a heavenly dimension. I think it was a man.

But I didn't want to go.

I was happy watching over Willow and Kennedy. I know that sounds strange. Maybe that's where guardian angels come from: when the dead are contented and know those they leave behind are okay, but still don't want to go. So I stayed, and I did manage to help them defeat a demon once. Dana's seen me, as has that new watcher, Richard, when he was feverish. Buffybot -- don't get me started on her -- can sense my presence, and I even got to talk to Willow once, briefly. She can't see me now, but I think she knows I'm around.

The funny thing is, I'm not around her all that often. I like Kennedy -- well, I suppose she can be a little pushy, but if Willow loves her she must be okay -- but I don't like to hang around when they -- um -- you know. There really aren't too many voyeur ghosts. People like that usually get sucked pretty quickly into ... somewhere else.

The point is, ever since they got to Star's Hollow, Willow and Kennedy have been -- you know -- all the time. _All the time_. That's why I started spending so much time in Chicago, at the new watcher's headquarters. I even sat in on a poker game with Dana, Buffybot and Kara, once I learned how to move the cards. I owe Bottie fifty dollars.

But trouble was coming Willow's way, and I decided to go ahead to warn her. Wasn't that what I was here for?

Sure enough, when I entered their room at the bed and breakfast, Willow and Kennedy were laying on their backs, side by side, covered by a damp sheet. They were lightly touching each other, skin wet and hair disheveled, with contented smiles on their faces and -- um, I don't think I need to go into any more detail.

"That was ...'' Kennedy began, before trailing off.

"Yeah," Willow said in a drowsy voice.

I remembered the feeling. But there wasn't much time, so I was looking around for something to push off a shelf when Kennedy threw off the sheet and climbed out of bed. I'd never seen Kennedy completely nude before. Wow. Slayers are _really_ fit. Where was I?

"Where are you going?'' Willow whined. Sorry, but she can get a little whiney under ... certain circumstances. "I was up for seconds."

"That would be fourths, kiddo," Kennedy replied as she padded toward the bathroom. "But sooner or later we've got to eat, so we can be up for fifths." She turned at the door and gave Willow a come hither look. "Join me in the shower?''

"Not if you plan to ever leave." With a sigh, Willow splayed herself across the bed and stayed there. "You go ahead, I'll be along in a minute."

Okay. Bathroom. Steam. Spirits write on glass and mirrors all the time, or so I've heard. I followed Kennedy, waiting while she turned the water on and stepped into the stall. In no time there would be steam. Yep.

That's when I realized I'd spent so much time avoiding them in the last year that I'd never known Kennedy takes cold showers. Or maybe it was just this once, so she'd have the will power to leave their room. In any case, no mist collected on the mirror. Hands on hips (we spirits tend to maintain our earthly mannerisms, although I've noticed I almost never stutter), I looked around the little bathroom, trying to figure out what to do.

There was one thing. It could be done with those who were sensitive, like slayers, and I'd done it by accident with Richard and Dana. I concentrated very, very hard, and when Kennedy stepped out of the shower I thought I'd accomplished the job.

I knew I had when Kennedy gave a little scream, jumped back, and grabbed for a towel.

"Can you hear me?'' I asked, enunciating very clearly.

"Willow! Get in here_ right now!_' Kennedy wrapped the towel tightly around her and stayed glued against the stall door until Willow dashed into the room, almost colliding with me.

"Sweetie, what is it?'' She caught Kennedy's gaze and followed it, but I could tell she couldn't see me.

"Um, your former girlfriend is here for a visit."

"Tara?'' Willow said, in a very small voice.

The expression on her face broke my heart, but I couldn't concentrate enough for both of them to see me, so I turned back to Kennedy and said in a loud voice, "Giles is coming!"

Kennedy gave me a blank stare. "She's trying to speak. Something about gypsies running."

"I can't see her," Willow complained. "Tara, what about gypsies? Are you with Miss Calendar?''

Gypsies! So much for the famous slayer power of observation. Frustrated, I reached out toward the sink and pantomimed turning the hot water tap.

"She's thirsty," Kennedy guessed, with a puzzled tilt of her head.

Now a fourth voice broke in, making me jump: "Oh, for heaven's sake." Another spirit had materialized beside me, and although I'd never seen her in life, it wasn't hard to figure out who she was. Taking a stride forward, she grasped the valve with a determined expression, and a moment later hot water began pouring out.

Then she turned to me with a bright smile. "Hi! I'm Cordelia Chase. You're Tara?'' She was dressed in a white robe, which was strange because I wore the same clothes as I had in life. Her hair had been cut shorter and colored since the pictures I'd seen were taken.

"I -- yes." I don't recall ever meeting her, but sometimes spirits just know these things. Or maybe she'd seen pictures, too. "How did you do that?''

"Willpower, honey. I've done this looking down from on high thing before, and I decided this time I wasn't going to just stand around." Concentrating, she reached forward and began to carve a letter into the steam on the mirror.

'G.' Willow turned to Kennedy. "Ghosts? Golems?"

Cordelia paused to look straight at Willow, and called loudly, "You need to get dressed, unless you're planning on wowing your visitors with the impressively natural redness of your pubic hair."

A blank look crossed Willow's face, and she whirled around toward the bedroom. "I need to get dressed."

Cordelia went back to writing, but turned part of her attention on me. "So, you're a lesbian wicca ghost? Do you realize, with today's anti-discrimination laws, you'd be the first hired for any job in the country?''

"I!" Kennedy burst out. "G.I.! Oh my God, the army is coming!"

From the bedroom Willow's harried voice floated in: "Ask her if she's seen Miss Kitty Fantastico."

Cordelia rolled her eyes, and kept writing. By the way, Miss Kitty is still alive and well, and living with a very nice family in Hoboken, New Jersey, but that's another story.

'L'' Kennedy rubbed her chin. "Gil? Gills? Willow, is there a lake or lagoon around here?''

"I don't know, we've never actually explored the area."

"Which is why you're in trouble," Cordelia murmured, as her finger worked its way across the mirror.

I confess I was beginning to feel a bit out of the loop at this point, so I wandered into the bedroom, where Willow had pulled on a long skirt and a peasant blouse. For a moment I stared, desperately wishing I could touch her, but we were both distracted when Kennedy suddenly cursed and ran into the room, with Cordelia right on her heels. Kennedy was so panicked that she slammed into the door jamb, tearing the towel away from her.

"Wow," Cordelia gasped, with an admiring once-over. "Imagine what Vera Wang could drape onto a body like that."

As if announcing the end of the world, Kennedy intoned, "Giles is coming."

Someone knocked on the door.

With a little squeal, Kennedy grabbed up the towel and wrapped it tightly around herself. Willow spun in a circle, as if searching for an exit, while Cordelia walked to the door and put her head through it. "Yep," she announced, drawing back, "The gang's all here."

"What do we do?'' Willow asked. "It's four in the afternoon and we just got out of bed!"

"And this is wrong why?'' Cordelia demanded. "I mean, other than the lack of maleness?''

"Giles thinks they came here to fight demons," I explained.

Cordelia just smiled. "Demons aren't out at four in the afternoon. They have to rest sometime, right?''

"We're resting," Kennedy burst out. "From fighting demons. That's it. Hit me."

Willow blinked. "Hit you?''

"Right. I need a convincing bruise to prove we were fighting demons earlier. One on the cheek, and this new one from hitting the door frame, should do it."

"I'm not going to hit you!"

The door knock came again, this time more urgently.

Turning on her heel, Kennedy addressed the empty bathroom. "Tara, hit me!"

What? I exchanged a look with the clearly amused Cordelia.

"Come on, Tara! I've been screwing your girlfriend."

Willow shook her head. "She's not going to hit you."

"Willow says I'm much better than you were, and that my breasts are perkier. She says I have a better imagination, and she could never get you to talk dirty the way I --"

A book flew across the room -- the Gideon Bible -- and slammed into the side of Kennedy's face. I know what you're thinking, but it was Cordelia, I swear. Although I admit, just for an instant, an unbidden feeling of satisfaction.

After a quick shake of her head to get her vision back, Kennedy marched toward the door, but Willow turned back with a stage whisper: "It never bothered me that you wouldn't talk dirty, I swear."

After checking to make sure the important parts were covered, Kennedy opened the door. It was Xander, poised to knock again, with Giles behind him in a poise of readiness. Beside them stood the epitome of tall and dark, wearing all black -- including a rather ridiculous looking wide brimmed black hat. The sun was still up, you see.

Hat or no hat, Cordelia gave a low whistle. "Hello again, salty goodness."


	6. Bed and Breakfast

Xander's gaze darted around the little room, looking for whatever threats might exist in a Connecticut bed and breakfast. Giles' confession that the watcher hadn't taken Willow's story of danger in Star's Hollow seriously had bothered Xander more than he let on, but he saw no immediate threat.

In a way that was too bad – getting his butt kicked by some beastie would be much preferable to breaking the news of Cordelia's death to still another old friend.

The place was a mess: strewn with discarded clothes, the bed rumpled and unmade, the dresser heaped with those torture devices all women had to have for their hair and faces. Xander had been around enough females to recognize all that as normal. Willow and Kennedy also seemed normal at first, if a bit underdressed.

Giles shoved past him, and was a little more obvious in his examination of the room. "Are you two all right? The owner said she hadn't seen you since last night."

"We were out all night," Willow told him, in a too-quick voice that immediately put Xander on his guard. "So, of course, we slept all day, as is often done by people who stay out all night."

"So I've heard," Giles murmured. "You've found some, ah, creatures of the night here, then?"

"A few." Kennedy threw a gaze at Willow, then moved the towel she was wrapped in, exposing just enough thigh to show an ugly scrape. "The one last night was a little more of a challenge than usual, but we dealt."

Ashamed of his momentary suspicion, Xander stepped forward to examine the injury. Then he realized he was staring at Kennedy's bare thigh, and straightened up. "Say, your face is bruised, too. Are you sure you're all right? Slayers don't bruise easily." Just keep talking about injuries, and he wouldn't make some stupid comment about her naked leg.

"We heal fast," Kennedy reminded him. "You should have seen me this morning."

"I'm sorry we weren't here to help." Giles looked contrite, although Xander suspected the two women had still fit some vacationing in between the slayage. "Perhaps we can be of help, now that the three of us –" He paused, then looked around. "Angel?"

Angel still stood at the doorway, a bemused expression on his face as he experimentally pushed against an invisible barrier. He hadn't been invited in, Xander realized. But wait – did vampires have to be invited in when the occupants had paid to stay there? He'd never been real clear on the whole hotel-motel thing.

"Oh!" Willow waved her arms as if trying to tread water. "Come on in. Kennedy, shouldn't you be getting dressed?"

Angel entered as Kennedy dashed into the bathroom. The slayer must have just gotten out of a hot shower, because the first thing Xander heard was an almost frantic rubbing of a towel over the bathroom mirror. He chuckled to himself – a girl's gotta know how she looks, after all.

"What kind of a creature was it?" Giles asked, as he settled into an armchair in one corner of the room, apparently in full research mode despite a lack of books. Angel still stood by the door and Willow was fluttering around as if she'd just had her eighth cup of coffee, so Xander perched on the end of the bed.

"Creature?" Willow repeated, suddenly freezing.

"The one you battled last night," Giles clarified.

"Oh! Big. Green. Horny."

Giles coughed. Angel raised an eyebrow. Xander, who knew without bragging that he'd normally be the first with a response to that straight line, just frowned, his memory jogged. "Granted that's a limited description, but haven't we met those guys before?"

Willow's eyes widened, then she nodded. "Cheeseman's minions. Just like those."

"And you saw only one?" Giles asked.

By now Kennedy had returned, dressed in blue jeans and a red shirt with the words "Blame it on Rio" emblazoned on the front. "Yep, just one. There was a nest of vampires, but we finally got rid of those, then the big green guy jumped us. But after it threw me clear Willow weakened it with a fireball, just like last time, then I managed to snap its neck."

"Vampires?' Angel asked, as he lazily rubbed the back of his neck.

"Formerly vampires." Kennedy gave him a guarded look. "Now dust bunnies."

"The only other time we encountered those demons," Giles mused, "they came in threes."

Kennedy nodded. "Exactly. That's why we should stay around the area a bit longer, to make sure two more don't pop up."

"I'll assign other slayers to assist you --"

"No!" Kennedy paused to take a breath. "I mean, that seems almost insulting, to think we couldn't handle them."

Apparently, Xander thought, Kennedy's memory was short. "Excuse me, but I, Richard, Kara, Jason, _and_ a vampire fought two of them, and one still managed to get away -- while dragging Dawn behind it. Is that something the two of you really want to face alone?"

"We have a system," Willow explained.

"Besides," Kennedy added, "we haven't actually seen any sign of more demons. We just want to look around the area a few days more – maybe a week – to make sure there's not one lurking around."

"Well …" Giles stroked his chin for a moment, then sent a pointed look at Xander. "In any case, we have another matter to settle, first."

That would be his cue. Xander hated his cue. "Yeah." Attacked by a sudden case of nerves, he stood and paced to the other side of the room, then gestured Willow and Kennedy toward the bed. "You guys – Willow – should sit down."

Affected by his expression, Willow did, and a suddenly subdued Kennedy took a seat beside her. "What's wrong, Xander? Did somebody --" Willow suddenly looked horrified. "Oh, no – did somebody --?

"Yeah." Kneeling, Xander took her hand. "It's Cordelia. She passed away."

"She – she did?" Willow shook her head. "But Angel said she was being taken care of. Weren't you taking care of her?"

"Of course I was –" Angel took a breath. "Yes. She had the best of care, but she couldn't get better. There was too much damage."

"But – I – when?"

"Just a few days ago," Angel said. "I came to Chicago as soon as I could, and Xander suggested all the Scoobies should be told in person."

"Oh. Oh." A strange look crossed Willow's face. "You came here to tell us about Cordelia?"

Xander nodded. "As fast as we could. I think Cordy would want us to all be together … to say goodbye."

He noticed Kennedy's eyes narrow, and she reached up to gently touch the bruise on her cheek. "Cordelia," the slayer murmured, looking bemused.

"You didn't know her, but she was there when we all first met Buffy. She was one of the original group … kind of." Xander shrugged. "It's sort of hard to explain our – relationship."

"I've heard stories." Reaching out, Kennedy took put an arm around her lover, pulling her close. "I think Cordelia would approve of you all saying goodbye together."

Willow suddenly straightened, as if just now realizing where this would lead. "Then you're all going to –" She turned to look at Angel, who squared his shoulders.

"She – that's our next stop," was all he would say. "The jet's fueled up and waiting."

"But the danger to this community," Giles broke in, "if two more of those demons show up –"

"I'll stay behind," Kennedy suddenly announced. "This is your guys' thing. I'll stay here to scout the area, and if one of them shows I'll whistle for help."

Giles shook his head. "But by yourself –"

"I'll stay with her," Angel said.

The others were silent, looking at him. Finally Willow gave him a sad smile. "No. You have to face … things."

Angel looked away.

"Kennedy can handle herself," Willow continued. "After all, I'm her watcher, kind of, right? I trained her well." She turned to Kennedy, having missed the look of melancholy that passed over the young slayer's face. "The room's prepaid until the end of the month, and long before that I'll come back to get you."

Kennedy squeezed Willow's shoulder, then let go. "Get packed – the sooner you go, the sooner you'll return."

While Willow got ready -- and said a private goodbye to Kennedy-- theothers headed downstairs for coffee, but in the hallway Angel hung back and touched Xander's shoulder. The vampire glanced around to make sure they wouldn't be overheard.

"Sometimes vampires can enter hotel rooms, and sometimes they can't."

Xander's senses bristled, and he wondered if Wolfram and Hart had given Angel the ability to read minds. "Yeah? What's up with that?"

"It has to do with how much the occupants have made it their home." Without another word, Angel walked on.

Just like that, Xander knew there was no green demon, no nest of vampires, and no threat to the little town of Star's Hollow, Connecticut. None, that is, except the threat Giles might pose if he found out.

Xander thought of Cordelia, and of Buffy, andof the earlier expression onAngel's face. The vampire looked like he'd rather go sunbathing in Hawaii than fly to Italy. No, Giles didn't need to find out what Xander knew – they had enough to go through, as it was.


	7. Pieces of the Puzzle

_Yes, we've left Star's Hollow, but not for long – my next story will be a major Buffy/Gilmore Girls crossover._

----

Willow tried to make some small talk on the way to the airport, but by the time the jet had reached cruising altitude even she gave up. Xander felt bad for her and took a seat beside his friend, while Giles chose the rear most spot in the small passenger compartment, and Angel a place nearest the front.

When the seatbelt light went off, Giles rose and headed straight for the private jet's wet bar. It was the Watcher's fourth drink of the day; Xander had been counting. He'd learned to keep track of such details in his younger days, as a form of self preservation. What was going on with Giles? As far as Xander knew, the older man hadn't had a single alcoholic beverage since they moved into the Chicago headquarters, but today he was hitting the sauce hard.

Today? Had it really been just one day? It was – what? – not long after noon when Angel appeared in Chicago. Thanks to Wolfram & Hart's high speed transportation and special privileges, they'd collected Giles and Willow by nightfall, and it wasn't even midnight as they soared over the Atlantic. By the time it was over, they'd have the mother of all jet lags.

Willow leaned over to whisper, "Was Giles always so … drinky?"

Xander looked at her, but saw no sign that she was doing any mind reading mojo. "Not so much. I don't know what's wrong with him." Or any of them, he thought, looking around the cabin.

Giles sat with a drink in his hand, staring down at the goldish beverage between sips. Angel was hunched forward, wringing his hands together, occasionally glancing toward a clock over the cockpit door. Willow alternated between nervousness and being unnaturally chipper.

This wasn't all about Cordy. They were involved in some kind of big, interlocking puzzle, something that may or may not be related to why they'd gathered together. People kept saying Xander had a reputation for "seeing". What did he see? He leaned back in his seat, pondering everything that had happened in the last twelve hours. For a long time he thought, until his eye started closing, lulled by the quiet and the gentle feeling of movement.

Then, in that moment before sleep, when the mind is freed from the routine work of voluntary muscle movement, Xander saw.

"Oh my God!" He leaped into the aisle, causing everyone to jump, and pointed at Angel. "You knew!"

"I knew --?"

"You knew Buffy was in Italy. You didn't come to Chicago expecting to find all of us – you knew."

Looking puzzled, Angel nodded. "Andrew told me when he came to get Dana. I didn't know it was supposed to be some kind of secret."

"Oh, sure … but I know you, Dead Boy. You didn't just know. You've _been there_."

The vampire's eyes widened. "Um …"

"You went to Italy?" Willow gasped.

Gile's reaction was more extreme. He leaped to his feet, face red. "You were spying on Buffy? You bloody peeping tom –"

"Wait a minute, it wasn't like that. She never even knew Spike and I –"

"Spike?" Willow repeated.

"Spike was with you?" Giles flung the now empty glass aside, making Xander wince, but it bounced off a seat without breaking. "Why can't you leave her alone? She's done with you, Angel, she's done with all of us. Leave her in peace!"

That was when the second piece of the puzzle fell into place, causing Xander to turn his attention to Giles. "Done with all of us?"

"She – I mean –" Giles took a faltering step back. "I mean, she's taken off, and she deserves that. She doesn't need to be worrying about Angel, or you lot, or anything else."

"You mean, retirement?" Willow considered the idea, her brows furrowed. "I thought she'd be coming back someday."

Xander shook his head. "Giles didn't. Did you, Giles? When's the last time you talked to her about slayer business?"

"I told you, she –"

"When's the last time you talked to her at all?" Beside him, Xander heard Willow gasp, and turned to see a shocked look on the witch's face.

The third piece fit itself into the puzzle. "How about you, Willow?"

"I've been … busy." She settled back into her seat, avoiding his gaze.

"Okay, I got that. Busy doing what?"

She continued to look away. "We have … we were …"

"Fighting evil, I know," Xander lied, with a glance toward Giles. "But you couldn't have checked in with the rest of us? Willow …" He laid a hand gently on her shoulder. "Were you planning to come back? Ever?"

Finally, she looked at him, her eyes full of guilt. "I'm sorry."

"I don't understand," Giles said. "Were there monsters, or not?"

"Yeah, there were," Xander said, not adding that they weren't the literal kind. "But Willow was also cutting herself off from the rest of us – making a new home – just like Buffy. That's your decision, Wil, but – remember when we used to talk?"

She nodded, and a tear ran down her cheek. "I haven't been a very good friend. I hadn't thought about Cordelia … I didn't check in with Giles … and I haven't talked to Buffy since last fall."

"Neither have I," Xander admitted, and he realized his own piece of the puzzle was right there. Maybe it even explained why Cordy's death hit him so hard. "Seems like everybody kept dying, for awhile there. I got into the habit of just going day by day, and not thinking about what wasn't right in front of me. But you know, we've gotta turn into human beings again – dead company excepted.'

Angel crossed his arms, but didn't rise to the challenge, so Xander turned again to address Giles. "Are you upset that Angel went to Italy, or that you didn't?"

Giles yanked a handkerchief from his pocket and began vigorously cleaning his glasses.

"How much does Buffy know about what's been going on, Giles? Does she know about Buffybot? Dana? That the government knows where the slayers are? Does she even know Richard was sick, or that Kennedy broke her leg? Or have you been holding every single bad thing from her?"

"Xander …" Giles paused to take a breath. "If you were on vacation, would you spend all your time reading the newspaper?"

"Maybe she wants to know what's going on."

"Maybe she doesn't. And I might add, unless you want to start running this operation, it's my decision to make."

"Not any more." Xander shook his head as still another space in the puzzle was filled in, with a piece he kicked himself for not seeing before. "You used to train girls to fight evil. Now all you want to do is protect them. So, who protects everybody else?"

Giles recoiled as if struck, and Xander knew he was right.

"That's it, isn't it? There should be working slayers in Europe, and everywhere else in the world, instead of everyone being huddled inside a fort in the Midwest. Buffy would realize that -- she'd decide to help, and that's why you can't take the chance of telling her when things go wrong. She's the only slayer to reach retirement age, and you can't bear the thought of losing her."

Slowly, Giles sank back into his seat, and pulled his glasses back on. "Yes. I had that revelation myself, just today. I've turned from a warrior into some nancy-boy grandfather."

Feeling Willow's hand on his, Xander looked down to see a pleading look on the redhead's face. "Xander, we get the idea. We made mistakes. Now we all have to face them, but can't we get through the next few days, first?"

"I don't think so, Wil. We have to come clean with Buffy, and the sooner the better." He turned to Angel, the only one of them who'd seen Buffy since she came to Italy. "She didn't see you, did she? I'll bet she doesn't even know Spike's alive."

The vampire shook his head. "She doesn't know I'm alive either, not anymore. She's seeing someone else. And she's happy."

The others were silent for a long moment, until finally Giles said, "Are there any other secrets anyone would like to bring up? Because once Buffy finds out we've been holding one thing back from her, she's going to want to know it all."

Angel started to speak, closed his mouth, then opened it again. "I've been dating a werewolf."

Looking unsurprised, Willow grinned. "Can't stay away from the special ones, can you? Not the same werewolf I dated, I hope."

"No. This one talks more."

Xander sank back into his seat, wondering if any of this would ever have been settled, without Cordelia's death to bring them together. Angel turned away from them again, while Giles, looking embarrassed, retrieved his glass and put it away. After a moment, again seeming to read Xander's mind, Willow spoke:

"Cordy would tell us we're all being idiots. That we should have just come out with it, and said what we thought a long time ago."

"Maybe she's doing that now," Giles murmured. "If anyone had the sheer force of will to send a message from the beyond, it would be her."

Angel turned to look back, his face twisted, and for just a second another puzzle piece seemed to fall into place. But Xander, sight or no sight, couldn't quite figure out what that piece might be.


	8. Epiphany, Part 2

_**I've elected not to actually show The Immortal in this story, something that I hope won't disappoint anyone. I think the fact that no one ever actually describes him adds an air of fun mystery to the character -- or I'm just being lazy.**_

_**By the way, I'm happy to announce that my story "Where Do We Go From Here" won the runner-up position in the "Flying Buttress of Support" award, at the White Knight Awards website. Last time I checked, there were only two entries in that category -- but I'm just going to ignore that part.**_

_**----**_

Buffy Summers was a little surprised to find herself first to arrive home that night.

She glanced at her watch, and was more than a little surprised to find it was just past 1 a.m. She'd been quite a night owl these last few weeks -- well, these last few months, really -- even after her careful search of area cemeteries confirmed there was no vampire activity near Rome. Once again, The Immortal -- or Imm, as she had taken to calling him, to his great annoyance -- had made good on his promise.

Buffy tossed her black leather jacket on the couch, then flopped down herself. "Dawn? Andrew?" It was an exercise in futility, she knew -- she didn't need slayer powers to tell the place was empty, even before stepping inside. Andrew had been squiring a succession of lovely ladies out on the town at all hours, sometimes two or three at a time. She didn't get the attraction. Apparently in Italy, short and geeky was all the rage.

As for Dawn, she'd been on a nonstop celebration ever since graduating early from the magnet school Giles recommended. At what point had Buffy's sister become a genius? Buffy sure never got the memo, but Dawn had tested so well that she'd been bumped straight into the advanced classes, and graduated a year ahead of anyone else her age. Thus the celebrating, which was supposed to have ended at midnight, sharp.

Sighing, Buffy propped her feet up, favoring a heel she'd bruised at some point during the latest dance marathon. Of course Dawn wouldn't be home -- she'd never have thought her sister would get home this early, and catch her still out. As for Andrew, he seemed to have forgotten that the Summers' home was not supposed to be his -- his own apartment had been repaired from the fire, but the other tenants were mounting a fairly effective campaign to keep him from coming back. Andrew had never been forthcoming with the details, but apparently a college coed from France, a room loaded with candles, and a bathtub full of some flammable alcoholic beverage were involved.

Buffy smiled. She didn't really mind having Andrew around, even after the rather traumatic revelation that he really wasn't gay -- much. For one thing, Andrew cleaned up after himself, and for another, he could cook up a storm -- which apparently was part of his charm with women. She didn't really mind Dawn still being out, either, since it had taken only a dozen or so spying missions to convince Buffy her sister wasn't out trying to recreate the whole candle/booze/French coed experience. As all night partiers went, Dawn was fairly tame, and wouldn't even let a male sit at her table without taking their pulse first.

"Life is good," Buffy murmured, with another contented sigh. Imm -- he hadn't complained about the nickname since she threatened to call him "Ortal", or "The" -- had seen to it that she hadn't had a single creature of the night to tussle with since last fall. Dawn was doing great, Andrew made the most fantastic pasta, and the three of them -- well, four, including Imm -- were getting along like gangbusters. When she wasn't partying, she was shopping, and when she wasn't shopping she was swimming or sunbathing. The rest of the time, despite her denials, she immensely enjoyed seeing the historical sights of Europe, from Big Ben to the Greek Isles. The Coliseum was within walking distance, as were a gazillion art galleries. She wished she could tell her mother how much she had come to appreciate the very art she used to make fun of.

Best of all, Giles insisted on sending her these impossibly huge monthly checks, insisting that the Watcher Council took care of its retired slayers -- as if they'd ever had a chance to, before. Apparently the original Council made some really good investments back before they blew up.

"Yep. Life is good." Buffy sat there a few minutes more, staring at a painting on the wall, something Imm had picked out on a trip to Venice. Then, to no one in particular, she declared:

"I am _so_ bored."

How could the Council just abandon her like this? Retired! She wasn't even a quarter of a century old! Giles was still active, and he was ancient. Faith had probably run off to Mexico by now, but from what little she'd heard everyone else was as busy as ever.

Nobody seemed to need _her_. How could she have been replaced so easily? Hadn't she led the potentials against The First, and then again in the fight against the Cheeseman and his army of dead slayers?

After that, she'd been shipped off to the Old Country and abandoned like a worn out pair of Reeboks. No one asked for her help, or advise -- no one called her at all, anymore. Her stress level was off the charts, El I'm-Full-Of-Myself ortal was a big, egotistical jerk, Dawn was uncontrollable, and Andrew whined like a puppy in the basement. If she didn't get some action pretty soon -- and not the kind Imm offered -- she was going to explode.

Suddenly Buffy leaped up, determined to go out on patrol, until she remembered the nearest graveyard The Immortal's minions hadn't cleaned out was a good hour's drive away. Vacationing was all well and good, but she'd been vacationing for months, and now she needed to work. She needed to do something.

She needed to feel like someone needed her to do something. Or at least that she was remembered -- was a simple phone call too much to ask? "Ring!" she demanded of the telephone, then turned in disgust, determined to raid the box of chocolate mint ice cream in the freezer.

The phone rang.

She froze, the Twilight Zone theme thrumming through her head. Having long ago stopped believing in coincidence, Buffy picked up the phone with a great deal of trepidation. "Hello?"

"Buffy! It's so good to hear your voice again!"

"Cordelia?" That was close to the last voice she'd expected, what with the whole coma thing.

"Yep. It's been a long time! I hope you're still blonde, and sticking with that fashionable yet battle ready look you practically trademarked."

"Yes. Um ... yes to both. Cordelia, it's great to hear from you, really it is. But the last I heard you were ... sick."

"Yeah, in a coma. I couldn't stay there -- the bed hair was mortifying. Thanks for the flowers, by the way. How's Dawn?"

"Annoying." Buffy sank back onto the couch, clutching the phone against her ear. Something was wrong.

"Same old Dawn, then. I tried to instill my incredible fashion sense into her, but last time we talked she still had the patterns of fuzzy animals on all her shirts."

"She's improved." False memories, Buffy reminded herself. Did Cordelia ever find out Dawn was once a transdimensional key? No, she'd moved to L.A. before Dawn even came into existence. "How are you? I mean, awake, but -- otherwise?"

"I'm feeling great. I just wanted to get back in touch with everyone. You know, touch bases -- I saw Angel. Still very much the Very Much."

"You've been to Wolfram and Hart?" Buffy listened carefully, still convinced something wasn't right.

"Is that amazing? Angel's somehow convinced he can change the place from within, but that's one big scary within he's dealing with. I only spent a little time there, and still had to save his life."

"Oh."

"And Spike coming back from the dead -- again -- with his soul still intact, isn't that something?"

Buffy dropped the phone.

Although her slayer hearing picked up Cordelia's voice, calling her name, her brain didn't process that information. Instead, it went over Cordy's previous sentence, over and over again. Surely, when she said coming back from the dead again, she meant him getting his soul back, right? Had she found out about that? But she was already in a coma when that happened, wasn't she? If only Buffy could get the timeline straight ... of course, maybe Angel simply told her, when she came out of her coma. She couldn't possibly mean ...

But Buffy hadn't gotten this far by not being able to sense what people meant. Very slowly, she picked up the phone. "Cordy."

"Oh my God, Buffy, I'm so sorry -- I thought you knew."

"I haven't ... I didn't ... what happened?"

"Something about his essence being in some locket that showed up at Wolfram and Hart ... I'm not clear on the whole story, and I'm not sure anyone else is, either. But he's back, pretty much unchanged. Funny story, when he first saw me he thought I was evil, which isn't really so funny because he --"

"He's in L.A.?"

"He -- he and Angel were in Rome, once, actually. They stopped to see you, but you weren't home." Cordelia paused. "Buffy. Don't go. Nothing good can come of it. Besides, you're needed somewhere else."

"Somewhere else." Buffy heard the sarcasm in her voice, and didn't care if Cordy did, too. "I'm needed nowhere else. I'm retired -- didn't Angel tell you?"

"We didn't really talk about you a lot, what with the whole monster in the basement trying to destroy everyone thing. But Buffy, you are needed -- they just aren't telling you."

"Why wouldn't they?"

"For the same reason they didn't tell you about Spike. They think you earned a nice, comfortable, no trauma inducing life, so they're hiding all the troubles they're having."

"Troubles?" Buffy sat up straight.

"That Chicago place is a wreck. They don't have enough room, and they don't have enough adults. Giles has no experience in running a school, and that's what it's turned into -- they need teachers, nurses, guidance counselors, and probably witch doctors. Dana almost tore the place apart --"

"Dana?"

"Crazy slayer, bad childhood. Focus, Buffy. Evil forces are gathering in L.A., and nobody in slayer land's even picked up on it yet. The slayers are all gathered in one place -- an easy target -- and Giles is too afraid of them getting hurt to turn them out into the world. Xander started drinking, Willow's hiding from everything in a little podunk town, Robin and Faith fight each other more than bad guys, Angel's as clueless as he is handsome, and did I mention the Buffybot is back?"

"_What?_"

"Spike's still questionable, too. They do need you, and they know it. But they're so worried about you having a happy life that they've taken some kind of blood oath never to tell you anything, which is probably why nobody calls you anymore."

"How did you find all this out? How long have you been out of that coma, anyway?"

"Oh, I've learned the art of eavesdropping -- it's easy if you know where to listen. So, are you going to come back? Because you'll be taking a trip back to the states anyway, and now's the time to think about a permanent move."

"A trip? What trip?"

"To a funeral."

A knock came from the door.

"Buffy, my time is up. I've gotta go."

"Time? Cordy, wait! What's --"

"Just think about what I said. And -- go easy on them, especially Angel and Xander. You don't know how hard it's been for those two. Take care, Buffy. I'll see you around."

"What? See --" The phone went dead. A moment later, as the knock came again, the receiver fell out of Buffy's numb fingers.

Buffy Summers could be naive at times, but in matters of the supernatural she usually figured things out pretty quickly. It took only a moment before, slowly, she moved toward the door. Without a thought of danger, she opened it wide, and regarded the small group that stood before her. "Angel. Come right in."

Angel, who had been hovering behind the other three, stepped forward, then stopped when he saw the expression on her face. "Buffy, I --"

"Wait. Hold that pose." Then Buffy drew back and socked Angel right in the face. He was still falling when she added, "Now, who else has been withholding information from me?"

Giles, Xander and Willow hastily competed to see who could step back the quickest.

"Never mind that," Buffy told them, her determination growing as the pieces fit together in her mind. "Come in ... we need to talk."


	9. Revelations

Xander stepped into Buffy's apartment, feeling much the same way he had her first year in college, that time everyone had thought the Slayer to be dangerously insane. She had that look in her eyes, as if she was going to bash his head into someone else's again – Giles, probably, since Oz wasn't around for this bit of abuse.

Giles also entered, looking the way Xander felt, while Willow turned to help Angel to his feet. But before Buffy could speak, while Xander was just starting to wonder how – and what – Buffy had found out about events in the states, a whirlwind swept into the hallway outside.

"Willow!" Dawn grabbed the witch and whirled her around, which made Willow lose her grip on Angel. The vampire was going down again when Dawn gripped his arm to steady him, then planted a kiss on his cheek. "Angel!" She paused, and her other hand dipped into a purse that matched the red silk dress she wore. "You're not evil this week, right?"

Angel shook his head. He looked rattled – and the side of his face was already bruising – but instead of seeing that, Dawn noticed the other visitors inside the apartment. She went from Giles to Xander, applying bone crushing hugs that made them both gasp. "Why didn't you call to say you were coming? I'd have come home before curfew and stayed out of trouble."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "We'll talk about that later – where did you get that dress?"

Xander had been wondering the same thing. It covered …way too little. But Dawn merely whirled around, making him look away out of fear that they were about to get a free underwear show. "El Bigshot full-of-himself Immortal gave it to me for Christmas, Buffy. Remember, you told me I couldn't wear it until I graduated?"

Buffy crossed her arms. "I thought I had another year to worry about that."

"It's nice," Willow said, before catching Buffy's eye. "It would look better with a long, full length coat, or maybe some leggings and a coat, and a cape."

Now it was Dawn's turn to roll her eyes. "I'll be back. Don't start gossiping until I return!"

She hurried into her bedroom, and as soon as she disappeared Angel leaned toward her sister. "Does she know people can almost see her underwear when she does that?"

"Why are you looking?" Buffy demanded. Angel stepped back, looking mortified. "Every time you're around her you turn into big brother, but right now you've got other troubles." Buffy turned to take them all in. "It seems you've all been hiding things from me."

Giles began cleaning his glasses. Willow became extremely busy studying the painting on the wall. Xander was trying to decide on the closest escape route when Buffy turned toward Angel. Thank God.

"How long ago?" Buffy demanded.

"How long …?"

"Cordelia. How long ago did she die?"

At that moment Dawn entered the room, and skidded to a halt. "Cordelia's dead?"

Xander was looking at Angel, who got that bleak, tortured look on his face again. For an instant that puzzle piece Xander had been pondering seemed almost ready to fall into place, but he still wasn't quite sure what nagged at him.

"A few days ago," Angel said, staring toward the floor. "She – never came out of her coma. I couldn't get away immediately, but I really thought you should all be told in person." His gaze flickered toward Xander, then away. "I'd like us all – the originals, from back in the first year – to say goodbye together."

Xander felt a touch from his blind side, and turned to find Dawn putting her arm around him. "I'm sorry. Cordelia and I didn't get along well those few times we were together, but …"

Buffy's angry expression faded away, as she too regarded Xander, and he suddenly realized that none of them had given much thought to the fact that he and Cordelia were a couple, all those years ago. None except Dawn and – of all people – Angel. "Thanks, Dawny."

"I'll get ready." Buffy turned toward her bedroom, but stopped when Giles spoke, for the first time since entering her apartment.

"We're not rushed, Buffy, if –" He stopped short when she turned toward him, anger again in her eyes.

"A long trip would be the perfect time for you to fill me in on everything you haven't been filling me in on." Taking a deep breath, she turned to her sister. "Dawn, I have a huge, huge favor to ask of you. Can you stay behind and make some arrangements for me?"

"Arrangements?"

"I'm heading back to the states. It's time to get back into the slayer business, and there's no point in waiting. You can stay here if –"

Dawn leaped into the air, letting out a war whoop. "We're back in the game! I'll take care of everything, and let Andrew know – we're not bringing El Immoral along with us, are we?"

"I –" Buffy shook her head. "No. I'll call him later." With a glance toward Angel, she walked into a hallway and opened a closet door. "What kind of transportation?"

"Private plane," Angel supplied.

"Good." She walked in with a large canvas bag, laying it on a coffee table that creaked in protest. "Then we can get this back to America without causing an international crisis." She headed back to the closet.

Weapons, Xander thought. Or she didn't want to declare all her souveniers. But probably weapons.

Buffy's voice floated out of the closet. "Giles?"

"Y-yes?"

"You had an insane slayer?"

"Dana, yes. She's much better now, although not completely cured."

Dawn looked away, and unfortunately for her Buffy entered with a suitcase, just in time to catch her sister's expression. "Dawn? Does this have anything to do with when you and Andrew came back from Chicago all bruised up? You told me it was a training accident."

"It was, kind of." Dawn cleared her throat. "It was kind of a magic training accident. Well, maybe not so much training as practice. Um, emergency practice. See, we had a time limit and we needed to cure Dana and Willow wasn't around and Andrew had a magic bone –"

"So you were hiding things from me, too. Where was Willow?" Now it was Willow's turn to look away. Buffy dropped the suitcase on the floor. "Willow? Were you and Kennedy holed up in that little town I heard about?"

"Holed up?" Willow shook her head defensively. "Star's Hollow is practically a hotbed of demonic activity!"

"And a good place to snuggle?" Looking disgusted, Buffy scooped up the suitcase and walked into her bedroom, where they heard drawers being opened and shut. "Now, when were you going to tell me about the Buffybot?"

The others – all of them still standing in the living room – threw challenging looks at each other.

"I thought you destroyed it, Wil," Buffy continued.

"Well, kinda. I put the parts into a self-storage building in Sunnydale, and when the town was destroyed, I figured that was it. But then the military found the pieces, and Riley gave them to us because he knows where the –" Giles shook his head violently, but Willow wasn't able to stop in time. "-- Watchers … headquarters … is … now …" She trailed off, looking horrified.

"Riley – the government – knows where we are?" Another drawer closed, a bit harder than necessary. "You were supposed to destroy it, Wil. How did it come back to life?"

"Well," Willow ventured, "I had used a spell to supplement its self-repair programs, and when the magic used to help Dana kind of backfired, the excess energies got sucked into the Buffybot and – oh, come on, Buffy, she's so cute!"

Buffy poked her head around the doorway. "Of course she is," she said dryly. "How could she not be?" She disappeared again. "But she's also wearing my face, and I don't want the first people who see me in Chicago to yell, 'Look out! It's that crazy cheerful girl who talks about having hot monkey sex with Spike!'"

After a moment Giles spoke. "The robot has been very helpful in the training of the new slayers, Buffy –"

"What difference does that make if you're never going to let them out of the building?" Giles looked offended, but clamped his mouth shut. "When's the last time they went on a mission, Giles?"

"Kara and Robin went on a quite successful mission to Cleveland recently," Giles said, not mentioning that the result had been Dana trashing the Watcher headquarters– and the reanimation of the Buffybot.

"Okay." Dragging a huge suitcase behind her, Buffy reentered the living room, stopping at the doorway to take them all in. "Here's one for you: When was somebody going to tell me about Spike?"

Instantly, everyone stilled. After a moment Buffy pointed an angry finger at Angel. "And you two – coming here to spy on me, and not bothering to –"

"They stopped to see you," Dawn said quietly. "You were out partying with The Big Sop. Andrew convinced them to let you get on with your life, which meant not worrying about them coming around."

Buffy stared at her.

"Andrew swore me to secrecy, but I wouldn't have said anything, anyway. You were so happy back then, back before you remembered that there was more to life than dancing and shopping." Dawn stuck her chin out, as if daring Buffy to deny it. "I don't know how you found all this out, but it was time, anyway. You weren't happy anymore, Buffy. I could tell."

With a long suffering sigh, Buffy closed her eyes. "Everyone's so busy keeping me happily in the dark. Could I please start making my own decisions, again?"

"We're sorry," Xander told her, to the general agreement of everyone else. "I guess we all got so wrapped up in being the ones who protected you, instead of the other way around, that we lost track of what our friendship is supposed to be about."

Everyone looked at him. Thinking back on how lame that sounded, Xander added, "Brutal honesty and emotional pain. That's what our friendship is about."

"Brutal honesty?" Buffy repeated.

"Right. And puns. And sharing donuts."

"Fine." Buffy took him by the arm, then grabbed Willow, and drug them both toward her bedroom. "We'll be back – don't get too comfortable; I'm almost ready."

"Getting comfortable won't be a problem with this lot," Giles said, shooting a glance at Angel as Buffy shut the door.

As soon as they had some privacy, Buffy turned to Willow. "Wil, tell me about this town where you've been staying."

"Oh, it's full of … um …" Under her friends' gazes, the young witch faltered. "It's full of wonderful, weird people, and quiet, and lots of snuggling with Kennedy, and there's not a monster to be seen. In fact, I think it's actually being protected, somehow."

"Oh, Wil …"

"I'm so sorry, Buffy. I took a little vacation, and never came back."

"When you put it that way …" Xander began, looking at Buffy.

"I get your point. Don't worry, Willow, we'll get you extricated out of whatever web of lies you told to stay on Giles' expense account. But you've gotta get back into the game, okay?" Looking relieved, Willow nodded, and Buffy turned to Xander. "Now – is there anything you want to tell me?"

"Me? Nah, my life's been going great." When she continued regarding him, he tried to think of some deception he personally had been responsible for. "Granted this has been the mother of bad days, but otherwise my life's been going okay. I'm an official watcher, I've been put in charge of a big renovation so I'm back in the construction biz, and the loss of one eye has led to a fifty percent improvement in my sense of smell."

"What about …" Buffy laid a hand on Xander's arm. "What about alcohol?"

Willow gasped.

"Huh? Oh!" So, that was it. Xander shoved back a wave of defensiveness, reminding himself that if there was anyone alive who truly cared for him, it was these two women. Anyway, it was about time the Buffster got some good news for the day. "No, no, that's all over. I started to feel a little down, and hit the beer some, but Faith gave me a good talking to and I dropped it like a Caleb fan club."

Buffy and Willow both looked completely unconvinced. "Let me get this straight," Buffy told him. "Faith turned you back on the narrow path?"

"What did she do?" Willow added with a sarcastic tone. "Give you a lecture on responsibility?"

"Well … yeah." Off their looks, he added, "Seriously. She got some of the older slayers drunk –"

"That sounds like Faith," Buffy interrupted.

"Really drunk, like sick drunk, and made sure I found out. When I tried to chew her out, she got all subtle on me with the point that I shouldn't lecture about responsibility when I was sneaking six packs into my room. So see, not one, but a whole bunch of us have now sworn off the booze." He thought about it, then smiled. "Faith the teacher. Who'da thunk it?"

"Xander, you're sure –"

"I'm dry, Wil. Scout's honor. Sober scout's honor."

"So we're okay?" Buffy asked, taking in both of her best friends. "No more hiding? Back to talking out our troubles?"

"Us, yeah," Xander told her, thinking about those still out in the living room. "But something's up with Angel – it might just be seeing you again, but I'm not sure. And Giles has … issues."

"Issues?" Buffy repeated.

"Maybe part of it was coming over here, when he thought you were so happy being kept in the dark. But that's not all – he's been sniping with Angel from the moment they saw each other."

"Well …" Willow lowered her voice. "There was … Jenny."

"He was Angelus then," Buffy reminded them.

"But Buffy, Giles loved her, and he's here with the man who killed her – even if he didn't have his soul then. And the way he did it –" Willow shivered. "Even after all this time, it still has to be hard. Heck, I still get mad at him for killing my fish."

Xander couldn't help smiling. "Way to put it into perspective, Wil."

'I'm just saying – besides, Buffy, you've been a little hard on Giles ever since that thing with Spike, and Robin, and everybody trying to kill everybody else. That was way over a year ago."

"Okay, you're right," Buffy agreed reluctantly. "I'll ease up on Giles, but let's watch him – and Angel. We operate as a team – none of our friends slips through the cracks."

"All for one," Xander said, holding out a hand. He expected a Three Musketeer style handshake, but instead his two best friends pounced forward and enveloped him in a hug that he didn't at all mind returning. "And one," he murmured, "for all."


	10. Heaven or Hell

"Quite a ride," Buffy said, examining the private jet as a worker loaded her single bag into the luggage hold.

Xander was examining the worker, wondering if it was an airport employee or someone paid by Wolfram and Hart, but he heard Angel say, "It gets you places."

"Faster than that big, black gas guzzler you drive," Willow told him. "I've always wondered why a vampire would drive a convertible."

"Yeah, way to risk blowing a hair out of place," Xander added, turning back to the group. He was rewarded with an annoyed look from Angel, but not as annoyed as he'd hoped for. "Seriously, Angel, it's not like you have to worry about overheating. Do you?"

"Not usually." Angel waved them on board and Willow eagerly led Buffy up the steps, going on about the upholstery and carpeting. But Giles, who'd been bringing up the rear, extended an overly polite hand toward their host.

"By all means, after you."

"Okay." Angel took a long, careful look up and down the length of the airplane, then stepped on board. Only then did Giles follow, keeping a careful distance between himself and the vampire.

Xander came after, wondering if he should try to talk to Giles about all this. Then he paused to watch the young man who was securing the door behind them. Everything seemed fine – was he picking up on Giles' paranoia? Yeah, probably – he wasn't exactly an Angel fan, himself.

Turning, Xander saw that Angel had already buckled himself in, again in the seat nearest the cockpit. Giles passed him, walked all the way to the rear, then turned with his back to the restroom, still standing. Willow drew Buffy down to a seat beside her, halfway between the two men, and only Xander saw Buffy throw a long look toward Angel before she sank down.

Wow. "The Young and the Restless" didn't have this much backstory. With a sigh, Xander took a seat right across the aisle from Buffy. "The gang's all here."

Overhearing, Angel turned to address them. "I tried to track down Oz. Apparently he's somewhere in South Korea right now, but I couldn't get through to him."

Buffy patted a suddenly uncomfortable Willow on the hand. "Thanks for trying."

Xander was secretly relieved, considering what he'd just been thinking about the soap opera aspect of this gathering. It would have been nice to see Oz, but this trip would bring back too many memories, considering the way Xander and Willow had been caught in a romantic tryst while they were supposed to be dating Cordelia and Oz. Considering they were caught _by _ Cordelia and Oz.

The cockpit door opened, and the pilot poked his head out. "We're ready to take off, sir."

"Oh, let's go east!" Willow called. "We could go all the way around the world in one night!"

The pilot shot a questioning look at Angel, who shook his head as if trying to fling it off. "We're getting back the fastest way possible. And the less we're over the water, the better."

"Aw …" Pouting, Willow sat back in her seat, bringing another pat from Buffy.

Angel hitched his seat belt tighter. Giles finally took his seat, leaving everyone positioned in such a way that only Xander saw Angel's hand, at the moment they lifted into the air, tighten convulsively on the armrest.

_Oh my God! Angel's afraid of flying!_

Well, it made sense, really. As a youth, Angel had never gotten on anything faster or higher than a horse. The real question was, how could Xander best make use of this? Should he start making fun now, or wait until the vampire was at his most vulnerable? Would anyone scared of flying ever be any more vulnerable than this? The still-adolescent portion of Xander's mind whirled, and he experienced an almost overwhelming desire to scream, "The wing is falling off!"

But, with a deep sense of disappointment, Xander let it go. They were on their way to a funeral, after all … maybe growing up didn't mean not acting like a kid, so much as learning _when_ not to act like a kid. Thus avoiding embarrassment, but having much less fun. Overall, he was kind of glad that he didn't say embarrassing things as often as he used to, and maybe caring about that was also part of maturing.

With a sigh, Xander switched to the window seat to look outside, but saw only blackness. He closed his eyes, but sleep wouldn't come, so he stared at the glass. As his eyes adjusted he caught the dim reflection of Willow and Buffy, their heads together as they talked quietly.

He should leave Angel alone. Cordelia's letters had made it clear that the vampire was fighting the good fight in L.A., doing his best to help people, and getting better at it despite some bumps. Or maybe it was Cordelia who was getting better at it, it was hard to tell. Xander had blamed Angel when Cordy's injuries left her in a coma, but even then he knew, deep down, how unfair that was. Cordy turned her back on a burgeoning acting career to fight with the good guys, and that war tended to produce casualties.

She'd have liked Angel's new resources. He probably had a plush office, and a whole team of people to make coffee, not to mention the use of a helicopter and this plane. She'd have loved the idea of traveling in a fancy private aircraft, whether it was to do good or not.

For a moment, he thought he saw her, sitting in the now empty seat between him and Buffy. She looked blissful, tilted back, smiling slightly, then turning to him with a widening grin –

Xander jerked his head around. The seat was empty.

Attracted by the movement, Buffy and Willow both turned. "You okay, Xan?" Buffy asked.

Willow added, "You look like you saw a –" She blinked, and darted a glance around the cabin.

"Yeah." Shaken, he stared at the seat. Had he leaned it back? "Just had one of those almost to sleep moments."

He swallowed and turned away, wondering about Cordelia now, instead of then. What kind of heavenly dimension had she ended up in? Or … had she? Surely she hadn't gone the other way? Nah. Granted, Cordy had her vain and selfish moments, but if her letters were any indication, she'd changed for the better. Hadn't she? But then, people would say the best about themselves, wouldn't they, even people as brutally honest as her.

He noticed Willow leave, heading back to the restroom, and caught Buffy's gaze. She smiled, then looked puzzled when he vaulted out of his seat and settled in beside her. "Buffy … I need to ask you something kind of personal."

"It's okay Xander – I'm your personal friend."

"When you … died …" Buffy started, but he barreled on. "We know where you ended up. But what about before then? Were you … you know … judged?"

She thought about it for a moment, then shook her head. "Honestly, I don't remember. I jumped into that field of energy knowing it would kill me. Then – then I was somewhere else. Nobody told me I was in Heaven … there were no Pearly Gates, no angels. I don't remember any details at all, just this general feeling that everything was good, and I was safe and taken care of." She looked wistful, making Xander sorry he'd brought it up. But before he could change the subject, Buffy added in a gentle voice, "She's all right. I'm sure she is."

"How can you be? How can anyone be?"

"Come on, Xan. Cordy never did anything so terrible to deserve eternal damnation. Besides, if she got sent to a hell dimension she'd just start running the place herself, and give it an extreme makeover."

"Yeah, sure."

He must have sounded unconvinced, because after a moment Buffy spoke again, this time less certainly. "Maybe my experience was unique. You know, there's another person who you can ask about the afterlife." She sent a significant look over the seat in front of her.

"You gotta be kidding."

Another voice broke in: "Go talk to him." Xander turned to find Willow had exited the bathroom, sitting beside Giles. "Giles wants you to get out of my seat, because I'm pestering him."

"I'm getting too old for all nighters," Giles said, "and tomorrow promises to be as long as today was."

"Right." Standing, Xander moved forward to the seat across from Angel, wondering as he did how much the vampire's sensitive ears had picked up. It wasn't exactly a 747, after all. "So, Angel … did you know that the safety record of private jets is much better than that of, say, crop dusters?"

Angel turned, without releasing his death grip on the armrests. "You'd better have something else to talk about, boy."

"Let's discuss your death."

"I said, _change the subject._"

"No, no – not your death in an airplane crash. Your previous death. Or, both of them."

Angel stared at him for a long moment, then cleared his throat. "I inspected the plane personally, and checked out the pilot's license. I also had him tested for drugs and alcohol."

"Angel … I know your experience wasn't exactly all sunshine and happiness, but I need to know some things."

"Sunshine and happiness?" Angel repeated bitterly. "You don't understand. I'm not saying I didn't deserve it, but you don't understand torture. You don't understand pain. There's no way I could discuss it without you experiencing it yourself, and believe me, you don't want to do that."

"No," Xander murmured, "I don't. But that's not what I want to know. When you died … do you remember? I mean, at some point somebody had to decide you were going up or down. Do you remember being judged?"

Angel's features softened, both fear and hostility sliding away. "She didn't go to hell, Xander."

"Damn it –" Remembering they had an audience, he lowered his voice. "How do you know? Just tell me what you remember!"

"All right. I remember nothing, that first time. Nothing after I felt my life fade away, nothing until I rose again as a vampire. I don't know if I went to Heaven or Hell, although I have my suspicions. But it's all a blank. I don't even know if I have the same soul now, or if this one belonged to someone else, or if they get manufactured new, somewhere … I just don't know. But that second time, when Buffy …"

He leaned across the aisle and lowered his voice. "One moment I was falling backward with a sword in my chest. The next moment, I was – there. If you're asking about the process of judgment, I can't help you.

"But I can tell you this. Cordelia's in Heaven. It may not be the Heaven you and I would think of, with fluffy clouds and angel wings."

"Probably," Xander mused, "It would be a high dollar shopping mall, stretching on to infinity."

Angel nodded. "And her holding a gold plated Mastercard with no spending limit. But whatever her idea of Heaven is, I can tell you this – she's there. And I can tell you why I'm sure. If someone was walking down a dark alley and heard a scream, what should they do?"

"Run like hell?" Xander guessed, confused by the change in subject.

"Right. And maybe that's what she would have done, once. But she changed. She would have gone to help. Maybe she would have complained about getting her shoes dirty; maybe she would have gone looking for a spa, afterward; maybe she would have even presented them a bill. But she would have run toward the scream, not away from it.

"And that's how I know she's in Heaven."

Angel straightened up and, after a moment, resumed his crushing grip on the armrests. Instead of going back to his former seat Xander stayed there, brooding in silence at what he'd heard. After awhile he decided that it only made sense. No matter how unfair life seemed, he couldn't believe that anyone would get eternal punishment for wanting to be prom queen. Besides, she had to get points for being fashionable.

After awhile, feeling considerable more relaxed, Xander turned to Angel. "Do you smell smoke?"

Angel jerked his head up and sniffed.

"Don't worry, Dead-boy. These things can fly with just one engine."


	11. Cordelia's Point of View

_**Special thanks to Ainon, who got me out of lots of trouble with this chapter. Um, and Faith, who wasn't even supposed to be here but just suddenly appeared. I'd complain, but I don't want to make her mad.**_

I thought they'd never get there.

I mean, showing up late for a funeral would be a major faux pas under any circumstances, but showing up late for my funeral would be criminal. But they made it to the funeral home, after what was probably way too little sleep at the swanky hotel Angel put them up in. Angel peeled off to take care of some details – too bad there wasn't time for him to replace those truly horrid lavender drapes – while the others stayed in a tight little knot, as if entering some monster's lair.

After Angel left the others, I noticed something kind of odd. Whenever Buffy, Giles, Willow and Xander went somewhere together, it seemed like Buffy always led the way. So, she was the Slayer, big whoop. Did that mean she always had to be the leader? But whenever they went off to do battle, or research some new big bad, or get take-out, Buffy was always the one in front. Maybe the others were just afraid she'd trip, and take out their Achilles tendon with one of those big axes she was always carrying around.

But this time, Xander was in front. I watched them come to a stop near the rear of the chapel, with him forward, Buffy and Willow to either side, and Giles bringing up the rear. It was weird. Buffy seemed … lesser somehow, even though she wore a truly smashing black silk dress, knee length, with an old fashion collar and layered sleeves – anyway …

No, it wasn't that Buffy seemed lesser. It was that she was one of a crowd, while Xander stood out, for once. He'd also changed back at the hotel, and somewhere along the line he'd developed some serious fashion sense – I'd like to think I rubbed off on him. He wore a regular black suit, which hey – so did everybody else – but it was custom fit, and the red tie added color in just the right place, and that eye patch – very secret agent.

Where was I?

Well, after a moment of sizing up the place, he led everyone straight to the empty seats in the front row, and swept a hard gaze around as if daring anyone to say he didn't have the right. I swear, Fred swooned, and I think Lorne did, too.

He did have the right, of course. Angel had arranged for my family – my blood relatives, I mean – to gather the next day for a different service, which would avoid questions about some of the weird people who were here today. It would also allow Angel and some others to conveniently miss the burial, since it would be happening during the day.

That was fine with me. I've got to admit, I was still getting the willies over the idea of my body being planted in the ground, even though I'm obviously not going to be in there, so I didn't mind waiting another day for that.

Angel, who was greeting people at the back of the room, glanced over and raised an eyebrow as the Scoobies headed for their seats, but didn't say anything. There was enough room in the front row for both them and the Angel Investigations gang, after all.

But before anyone had time to get seated Fred ran up and grabbed Willow's hands, chatting to her like a schoolgirl. Wes stepped in front of Giles and, after they had a moment to size each other up, they shook hands and started that inane British chitchat that polite people do when they really don't like each other. Spike shuffled toward Buffy until she caught sight of them, then they just stood there staring at each other, like a couple of geeks at a school dance. The gang's all here, you know? I was getting a kick out of their discomfort.

Well, the gang wasn't all here, since a bunch of people had stayed at that new Watcher's headquarters. But to my surprise Faith had caught a redeye straight to L.A., beating Xander and the crew by a long shot, and she was the one who first caught on to the fact that Xander was just standing there, looking at me.

Not the real me, of course; just the body in the coffin.

I had on this darling burgundy dress with a kind of paisley pattern, and it showed off some very nice cleavage, if I do say so myself. They had my hair up in a complicated, delicate pattern, and the makeup – perfect. I looked alive, seriously. Thank goodness Angel didn't try to shove me into black – there was way too much of that going around as it was. Fred was wearing white, bless her; she knew how I would have felt.

Anyway, Xander just stood there near the front row of chairs, staring at me, and I began to wonder if the open casket thing was such a good idea, after all. Faith took his arm and spoke into his ear, but it was as if he didn't know she was there. A moment later Lorne caught the undercurrent, but to my surprise he just stood there like a big lump, staring. Maybe he was waiting for Xander to break into a heartfelt chorus of "Feelings".

Buffy and Willow didn't catch on at all. Jeez, they called that group the Scoobies, like they lived together in a van with a big dopey dog. You'd think they'd be more sensitive to each other's feelings.

"What's the matter with you?" I demanded out loud. Doyle had told me to stay quiet at funerals, in the brief time we talked before he went on to do that whole whitelighter mission thing. I don't know why he felt the need to tell me that, but he should have stuck around for more than a "welcome to ghostville" speech if he wanted to shut me up. "Lorne -- singing and helping, those are the things you do best. Get involved or do some Sinatra."

Lorne turned and, with an expression of incredible sadness, looked right at me. "I can't help him right now," he whispered. "He needs someone who's been to the bottom of the discard pile, and was able to get back into play."

Okay, so that shut me up. I just gaped at him until he turned away. Maybe he was talking to himself, and I just happened to be there. But I don't think so.

I felt a little bad about yelling at him, but I was the guest of honor, after all. Cut me some slack. Anyway, I looked really good, and that was one deluxe casket, so I don't think I can be blamed for changing the subject by saying out loud, "A girl who chucked it all to help the helpless deserves a nice send off, don't you think?"

"Oh, absolutely," agreed the spirit who stood near my casket, giving Faith a hard stare. "Spending lots of money on a girl, living or dead, is the best way to show her you love her."

"I wish I'd known you when you were alive," I told Anya. "We have a lot in common."

Anya turned from Faith to give me one of those challenging stares that I used to consider – well – a challenge. "Maybe so, but you can't haunt Xander. Xander's mine."

"Please. I've got a lot of traveling to catch up on; I'm not going to waste my time haunting anyone." Besides, Xander had turned from my body, looking depressed but not as freaked a moment before, so I wasn't too worried about him. In fact, I'd have been insulted if he didn't take it hard.

"As long as we're clear. I know you have history, but I'm the last person Xander had sex with, and he had a lot more sex with me than with anyone else."

"Lady, if Xander and I had sex just once, he'd still be in my bed, whining for more."

Okay, I admit: I was tempted to rise to the challenge. But I was also busy eavesdropping on an increasingly heated conversation between Buffy and Spike, so mostly I wanted Anya to shut up.

Their conversation started with something like, "I can't believe you didn't tell me you're alive," and went rapidly downhill from there.

"Buffy, when I first came back –"

"And you invaded my apartment, sneaked into Rome like a couple of spies –"

"We were invited in – we had to be invited in, remember?"

"Andrew was a guest. Aren't there rules? Can a housekeeper invite you in? How about a TV show? Or a loud parrot?"

"Buffy –"

"The point is, the last time I saw you, you were spontaneously combusting. You couldn't have sent me a note? 'Dear Buffy, I'm not on fire anymore'?"

"I didn't want you to go through –"

"I'm so tired of people making those decisions for me!"

Just when it was getting good, Angel stepped between them. First he stepped through me, which is really weird. What was weirder was the way he stopped for just an instant, glancing around as if he'd just – well, as if he'd just passed through a ghost. But he shook it off and put a hand out. "This isn't the time –"

"You!" Buffy punched him in the shoulder. "You were no better, skulking around Rome like a stalker."

Taking a step back, Angel rubbed his arm. "I don't skulk."

Spike snorted.

"Buffy, please. This is a funeral for your friend." Buffy didn't hear that, because her mother said it. But she must have at least felt something, because she looked around with that guilty, puppy dog expression. Shaking her head, Joyce drifted away to join me and Anya. "I hated to do that. It's so important for us to be quiet during funerals, when the spirit world comes close to the surface. When Buffy heard me at my funeral, she had nightmares for weeks."

Buffy was nightmare girl anyway, but I didn't mention that. The place was filled with spirits, almost as many as the living, but I have to admit they weren't all here for me. Tara stayed close to Willow, and Jenny Calendar followed Giles around, for instance. In the last few days I'd learned that they aren't always there, shadowing their former friends and families, but they'd all shown up for this. So much for Angel being the stalker.

I saw Harmony walking down the aisle, which made me think of something. "Joyce, what about vampires? When they're turned they lose their souls, so could Angel's and Spike's ghosts be wandering around somewhere?"

Anya spoke first: "I didn't know you were capable of such deep thought."

"At least my idea of a conversation wasn't listening to the screams of men being turned into horse droppings." Not my best zinger, but I hadn't known Anya long, and hadn't had time to zero in on her weaknesses.

Anya looked horrified. "I only did that once. And he didn't scream at all, he just sort of gurgled."

"Color me ick." Before I could say more, my attention was taken by Xander, who had turned to see Harmony approaching him.

"Xander, I just wanted to say how sorry –"

"Vampire!" Eyes wide – um, eye wide -- he yanked a small cross from his jacket pocket and waved it at her. "Vampire!"

"Hey!" Harmony protested, lurching backward. "That stings!"

"It's supposed to! Hey, everybody, Harmony's a vampire! Who let her in?"

"I did," Angel said in that dry voice that usually meant he got the joke, but didn't think it was funny.

"Xander!" Harmony whined. Hey, I'm sorry, but Harmony whined a lot, even as a blood sucking fiend. "I may be the undead, but Cordelia was my friend, too. She even let me stay at her place once after I was turned."

Xander stared at her. "She did?"

"Uh huh. So, can't I at least stay to pay my last respects?"

"Um, yeah. Okay." Looking embarrassed at the attention he'd drawn, Xander sank into his folding chair. Maybe he'd have been less embarrassed if he'd known Harmony tricked me into inviting her in, and that I didn't know she was a vampire until later, and that she tried to get us all killed. But what the heck. No girl should have to fight in those high heels, and dusting a vampire in the middle of a funeral had to violate all sorts of etiquette rules. Well, unless the funeral was for the vampire, in which case I suppose there'd be no choice. Still – tasteless.

Looking hurt, Harmony found a seat as far from Xander as she could get, and the others also began working their way to chairs. Angel and Spike both made a move toward a place beside Buffy, but Faith gave them a look promising great violence and sat there herself. Unfortunately, that put her right beside Wesley, who suddenly went from looking very cool and sedate (he'd even shaved) to really uncomfortable. The two vampires settled for side by side places on the other side of the aisle, where they spent the next few minutes elbowing each other.

With the seats suddenly crowded with living people, the spirits drifted toward one side of the room, forming a line so they could all see. "It's a lovely service," Tara said, and even as the words came out she looked mortified. "Um, I think there are more people here than came to mine." That didn't help. But, hey – how can you give a dead person a compliment for their funeral without feeling foolish? I give her credit for trying. She's really sweet, and I understand what Willow saw in her, even though – ick.

The service? It was very nice, and everybody teared up, and Lorne did a really great version of "Amazing Grace". Other than that? Well, let's face it, funerals are boring. It was more fun at the dinner later, when some people got drunk, some got morbid, and the rest got both. Giles sat in a corner, staring at everyone as if he was in the CIA; Willow and Fred formed a kind of nerd corner where they debated geek stuff for about two hours; Spike got slapped by both Buffy and Harmony, then started up with Gunn, the wrong man for a vampire to start up with, and got decked; Angel wandered from place to place, looking morose, which was really sweet.

Xander didn't swallow a drop of alcohol, but after awhile his voice started rising, and he flung his arm at everyone who tried to talk to him until Faith suddenly grabbed him by the arm and drug him into -- get this -- the women's restroom.

"Hey!" Anya cried out, chasing after them, but Jenny Calendar grabbed her -- in a ghostly way, it's hard to explain -- and held her back. Not an easy thing.

"Don't do it," Jenny hissed at her. "I sat with Rupert during all those hard times, and couldn't do a thing to comfort him -- it just made him feel more haunted. You can't help, and you're bound to hear things that will just make you feel worse."

Personally, my first, impulsive thought was that Faith was looking to get laid. The girl was thoroughly sloshed. I mean, she may be trying to redeem herself, but she's still Faith, right? But Lorne moved to guard the door from Buffy, Willow and a half dozen other people who were thinking the worst, and Lorne doesn't take offensive action without having a pretty good idea what's going on. I decided to trust him, if not Faith, and that's what I told the other spirits.

It made Anya crazy.


	12. Intervention

_**One chapter left after this one, which again features Faith showing up when I hadn't planned for her to … Jeez, maybe she should start writing her own stories …**_

_**-#-**_

Faith shoved Xander into the women's restroom and asked herself how she managed to get into situations like this.

It used to be so easy: See monster, kill monster, party, avoid complications. Now she was practically … Buffy.

Ah, well. Might as well get some licks in before the Scooby gang knocked down the door and mucked things up. "What the hell's wrong with you?"

"I don't know." Xander stood in the middle of the room and looked around. "Something's missing in here."

"Yeah, sanity. Get your act together, Harris."

He glared at her for a moment, then looked away and mumbled, "Nobody knows –"

"_I_ know. You were like this on the bus ride to Chicago last year, but everybody else was freaking out so much they didn't notice. They lost their home, and their friends, and some of us were still in the hospital. Robin, was almost dead, for instance. Anya was just one more casualty."

Xander turned on her, his breathing ragged. "Shut up. This isn't the same."

"Sure it is. A guy can have more than one big love in his life, even if they don't realize it at the time. You and Anya were It, I get that – but you never completely got over Cordelia, did you?"

"Since when are you the big expert on relationships?"

Ouch. It would have hurt worse if he wasn't right. "Never was, but I'm getting to be an expert on you."

"Gimmie a break." Turning from her, Xander started down the line of stalls, throwing each door open in turn. "Don't girls ever do graffiti?"

"There's nobody in here, I would have heard." She could hear quiet voices outside, and it sounded like Willow and Buffy were trying to convince Lorne to let them in without violence. Lorne should be the one in here, Faith thought bitterly. Xander's right – what do I know about people? "Would you stay still? Which would you prefer, that I get all weepy and hug you, or break your nose?"

Giving up, Xander leaned against the sink and crossed his arms. "Fine. What the hell are you doing, anyway? When did you start giving a damn?"

_I haven't come to any conclusions about that, myself._ "Look, you help me and I'll help you. I've got a relationship now, remember? It's tough. I had no idea how tough it was to have somebody love you."

Faith held her breath, and got the response she'd hoped for when Xander's veneer of hostility faded. "Yeah. It's scary."

"Commitment. It's like walking into prison again."

"Commitment." Xander nodded. "You and Robin. I never thought it would go the distance."

"You know what did it?" He shook his head, and she took only a moment to consider how much she hated talking about this kind of stuff. "Common history. We both grew up with – shall we say broken families? We both found a cause, to train and fight the bad guys. We both used that as an excuse to avoid anything else. Anything. We grew a thick skin and didn't get personally involved, and I think maybe we were both looking for revenge."

She paused to make sure she still had him. She did. "See, we had a lot of problems getting used to having somebody else in our space, but what did it was the fact that we know how it is. We don't get clingy, and we make sure to spend time apart, like I'm doing now. That actually makes us closer, 'cause we understand. Get it?"

"Yeah. I'm still working on what that has to do with me, though."

Faith scratched her head. "I had that a minute ago, but now it's gone."

Xander smiled.

"Wait, I remember. You've got friends – friends who love you so much that they'll fly halfway around the world just to help you through a hard time, to stay by you even though they weren't all that close to Cordy, themselves. I'm not clear on how that whole thing works."

He watched her closely. "You're not, huh? I think you underestimate yourself."

Suddenly uncomfortable, Faith barreled on. "But what I am familiar with is hitting the bottom. I know what it's like to think nobody cares, nobody understands, and nothing will ever get better again."

"I don't think that."

"Sure you do. That's why you put on a show out there. Everybody starts their usual soap opera infighting, and you're thinking nobody but you gets that we're supposed to be here for Cordelia – nobody but you understands. And meanwhile, every woman who gets involved with you kicks off. Am I getting warm?"

He stared at her.

"Sure I am. I've got wicked skills. I'm thinking of becoming a shrink, or maybe a sex therapist." Hopefully Xander wouldn't realize how relieved Faith was to see that she was right. This whole understanding the subconscious thing was a bitch. "So what I'm getting at is, I help you scrape yourself up from the mud, and you help me figure out why people can be such pains in the ass. Deal?"

Xander held her gaze for a moment more, then shook his head. "You are so full of crap."

Faith waved a hand to remind him they were in the women's restroom. "Then I guess I'm in the right place." She moved forward, throwing an arm over the towel dispenser. "They did care about Cordy, Xan. Some more than others, maybe … but right now they care about you." She reached out to touch his cheek, and was gratified that he didn't flinch. "You've had some rough experiences with women, huh?"

He looked away. "You ought to know."

She ignored that. "And now they're dying off on you. Does that mean I'm next? How will you act at my funeral?"

Stiffening, Xander turned back to stare at her. "What the hell kind of a question is that?"

"A girl wants to know she's gonna be missed. Morbid, I know, but we are at a funeral." Then, taking the big jump, she held her arms out. "Come on, Harris, lay one on me."

His eyes widened, and he started to scoot back. "Are you insane?"

"Don't panic, I just want a hug. I figure you need one too, and I also figure neither of us wants anyone else to know that." She spread her arms wider. "Don't get your hopes up – I've turned into a one man woman, somehow."

For a long moment, he just stared at her. Then, his voice trembling, he said, "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"It's grief, dude. Has it happened since you left Chicago? Hell, has it happened since that bus ride from Sunnydale? You're not just upset about Cordy; you're upset about Anya, and losing your home, and your screwed up family, and that dashing eye patch that makes you look so hot."

She waited, holding her breath.

Xander was able to hold it for just another moment. Then, sobbing, he collapsed into Faith's arms.

It was easier than Faith had thought it would be, especially since that hadn't been her plan when she dragged him into the bathroom. It was good, even, and she teared up a little herself. The voices outside silenced – slayer hearing and hand signals, no doubt – and the world fled as Xander let his insides out. Not in a literal way.

She wasn't sure how long it was before he reached past her, grabbed a paper towel, and turned away. Taking the cue, Faith backed away and waited.

"Thanks," he said, finally. That was all. That was enough.

"I saw it on 'Good Will Hunting'," Faith admitted.

Chuckling, Xander turned to splash cold water on his face. "You'll make a good shrink. If you ever decide to do that sex therapist thing, let me know."

"You'll be first on the list." She touched him lightly on the shoulder, than stepped away a respectable distance. They opened the door, and walked back into the world.


	13. Goodbye, Cordy

_**This is it! The last chapter. Thanks again to Ainon, the best beta ever, who saved me from scores of embarrassments. Also, thanks to all the wonderful reviewers, without whom this story literally wouldn't have happened. I feel as jet lagged as the Scoobies would be, after this whirlwind trip. Hopefully I'll be allowed a short summer break before starting on my promised Buffy/Gilmore Girls crossover.**_

_**----**_

It was close to midnight. when Xander reentered the chapel, and as he glanced at his watch he realized it had been almost exactly thirty-six hours since he learned of Cordelia's death. A day and a half. That night before the final battle with The First hadseemed pretty long, but this was giving it some stiff competition.

He was surprised to see a small group of people still there, standing in the area between the lines of chairs and Cordy's now closed coffin. He recognized most of them as the crew of Angel Investigations, and as he watched each personreluctantly broke away, heading toward the exit.

Gunn nodded at Xander, then kept going. Lorne, his cheeks wet, reached out to clutch Xander's shoulder as he passed. Then Fred stopped in front of him, taking a deep breath before she spoke.

"You came back to say goodbye, too?"

"Yeah." Wanting to change the subject, Xander nodded toward a teenage boy who was just passing, a devastated look on his face. "Who's that?"

Fred glanced at the boy. "Conner, a client of ours." For a moment she paused, as if trying to extract a lost memory from her mind. "I didn't think he knew Cordy, but he seemed pretty broken up at the funeral. Maybe there's some history there I don't know about."

She turned back to Xander, and reached out to touch his arm. "We're all going out for coffee; would you like to come along?"

"No, I've got something to do."

"Well … I'm sorry. I hope … this is going to come out wrong, but I hope she's the last of our friends that we have to say goodbye to." She paused, looking embarrassed.

"It's okay, I understand. We've seen too many deaths. I don't want one of the people I've seen here today to be the next one."

"Yeah." With a last look back at the casket, Fred walked on. Almost immediately Wesley replaced her, as if he'd been waiting for Xander to be alone.

"Xander, my condolences again. I had thought Mr. Giles would be back tonight …"

"He'll be here shortly. We talked about it back at the hotel, and we're going to hold a wake."

Wesley blinked. "A wake?"

"Well, I told them to go on back to Chicago, and I was going to spend the night here, but my friends wouldn't let me stay alone." Xander noticed a certain amount of edginess in his own voice. Buffy, Willow and Giles hadbeen surprised at his decision to spend one last night with Cordy, and he suspected they still had trouble grasping how torn up he'd been about her death.

But none of them ever fell in love with her, after all. He was still a bit mystified about how tuned in Faith had been, and he suspected she'd have stayed with him if the original Scoobies hadn't insisted they would, instead. It was for the best that Faith head back to Chicago: She still wasn't all that popular with the local police.

"I think you should know …" Wesley looked back, where Angel stood with a young woman who'd been at the funeral. "Angel already made plans to stay with Cordelia tonight."

"He did?" Xander got that strange feeling again, as if there was a part of this story he wasn't getting. Still ... Giles might not like this, but Angel probably had as much right to attend the wake as anyone else did. "Well, Angel's going to have some company."

Wesley smiled. "He just kicked all of us out of here."

"He won't have that kind of luck with me."

"Very well. Anyway, about Giles …" Leaning forward, Wesley lowered his voice. "If you could pass on a message for me: Please let him know I must regretfully decline again his offer to rejoin the watchers."

"Again?"

"He suggested it before, just after the potentials were called. It was more tempting then; now I believe I'm needed here. Buffy has informed me that a new challenge is arising, here in Los Angeles."

"What kind of challenge?"

"I don't know. She was very vague, and wouldn't tell me where she got the information. But I think Mr. Giles will be secretly pleased I stay, so I can keep an eye on the situation with Angel and his new – position."

"Ah." Xander had to admit being disappointed. They could use all the watchers they could get, and by all accounts this Wesley, as opposed to the one they'd known in Sunnydale, would be a good one. "Heaven forbid anyone should hear me say this, but I don't think Angel's going to go over to the dark side."

"I would have said that once." With a sigh, Wesley shook his head. "But since we came to Wolfram and Hart, I'm not so sure. The temptations are great."

"Well … we'll just have to depend on you, won't we? Oh, and keep Spike out of trouble."

This time Wesley's sigh was much more world-weary. "The challenges just keep on coming, then? I'll arrange for you to have more comfortable seating." He shook Xander's hand and took his leave.

That left Xander alone with Angel and a pretty young woman who was talking quietly with the vampire. When he approached them, Angel looked up, then gestured toward her. "You didn't get a chance to meet, earlier. Xander Harris, this is Nina, my …" He paused, and Nina gave him a sharp look. "My girlfriend."

Say what? Xander gave the girl a closer examination. She looked so … normal. "Um, glad to meet you."

"And you. Angel's talked about you once or twice."

"Nothing good, I'm sure."

She considered it. "No, nothing good. You're older than I pictured."

"Some of us age." Xander gave Angel a pointed look. "Speaking of which, does she know –"

"She does."

"And does she know – the rest?"

"I've got it covered," Angel said, through gritted teeth.

Smiling, Nina checked her watch, then kissed Angel on the cheek. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Angel nodded, then watched until she was gone.

"She looks happy," Xander told him. Angel nodded again. "I hope she's the only one."

Angel turned to glare at him, but his attention was taken when workers entered, hauling comfortable looking upholstered chairs from the funeral home's lounge. "What's this?"

"Some of us have circulation." After doing some quick math, Xander added, "But it looks like there's one for you, too."

"I don't –"

"There's room for all of us." Xander gave Angel a challenging look. "We've come a long way."

Angel opened his mouth, but closed it again when Harmony entered, carrying a pot of coffee. "I've got your first pot, boss. I'll come back in a few hours with another pot and some blood –"

"We're going to need one of those big, industrial strength pots," Angel said, without taking his gaze from Xander. "More cups, and some human snacks."

She stopped short, looking hopeful. "Human snacks?"

"Snacks _for_ humans."

"Awww ..."

"Donuts would be good," Xander suggested.

"Donuts," Angel repeated. "And maybe cookies. Nothing that crunches, crunches wouldn't be appropriate."

Harmony stared from one to the other. "But you wouldn't let anyone –"

"Harmony!"

"She was my friend too!"

Angel stared at her, looking as if he'd never considered that. "You're right. But – look, you've been up making arrangements, taking care of things ever since Cordy passed away. Why don't you have someone else send the rest of the stuff, and go get some rest? You can come back in the early morning to say goodbye."

"Well …" Harmony faltered for a moment, and before Xander's gaze her energy fled, and she looked like an exhausted little girl. "Well, I am an evil vampire and all, so I wouldn't be expected to stay the whole night."

"Right," Angel said quietly. "Go get some sleep."

Setting the coffee down, Harmony shuffled toward the exit. Angel glanced at Xander. "Keeping her busy keeps her out of trouble."

Which might be true, Xander thought, but Angel sounded like he felt guilty about it.

Xander wondered, again, about the nature of vampires. Harmony hadn't been resouled, and he had no doubt that she'd be drinking blood from living people, given the chance. But she really did seem to care about Cordelia, even though in his experience vampires delighted in killing their former friends. He wondered if someday the idea that all vampires were alike would be just as out of date as any other general prejudice.

Not that he would ever be caught pushing vampire emancipation.

Buffy, Willow and Giles entered, so preoccupied with discussing the tradition of wakes that they didn't even notice Angel standing there, at first. Apparently Willow's family had never discussed or participated in wakes before – whether because of Jewish tradition or because they weren't really very religious at all, Xander wasn't sure.

Then Buffy stopped short, staring at Angel. "Oh."

"Wakes started as a way to make sure the dead hadn't been turned," Angel told Willow, ignoring the Slayer. "Most people don't know that."

"But Cordy hasn't been turned." Giles sent Angel a challenging look. "Right?"

"Right." Turning, Angel pointed out the chairs, placed in a circle by the coffin. "If she had been, she'd have risen by now."

There was a silence, as the Scoobies counted in their heads. "You're staying?" Giles finally asked.

"It seems we all had the same idea." Walking to one of the chairs, Angel sat down – although he hardly looked comfortable.

The others exchanged glances. Then they also moved to the chairs, butWillow paused to deposit a small stone on the coffin before sitting. Giles, Xander noticed, took the chair directly across from Angel. Buffy sat where she could see the coffin.

"So," Willow said after a long, quiet moment.

"So," Buffy repeated.

It was, Xander decided, going to be a long night.

----

Three hours later, Xander was more certain of that than ever, although for entirely different reasons.

"It's called Irish coffee," Giles explained patiently, as he poured another cup from the pot Angel handed him. "And yes, it's perfectly legal for you to drink. You're all over twenty-one, after all."

"I'm substantially over twenty-one," Angel said as he took a sip.

Giles handed a cup to Willow, who sniffed it suspiciously. "But, is it moral for us to drink?"

"Quite. It was invented for wakes, you know." Giles stabbed Angel with a gaze and added, "That way people can stay awake while making sure their loved ones don't rise up and eat them."

"Exactly," Angel said agreeably. It was his third cup.

To Xander's dismay Buffy took some, although she treated it like nitroglycerin. "How much is coffee and how much is Irish?"

"Don't worry, it's mostly coffee." Still, Angel looked worried. "Buffy, be careful; Spike says you're a lousy drunk."

As if she'd been dared, Buffy took a swallow. "Bleugh. Just how much do you two talk about me?"

"Not much."

"Not much?"

"It's what you wanted," he reminded her.

"Yeah." Buffy's face wore a mixture of relief and melancholy.

"We're trying to … move on." Clearing his throat, Angel turned expectantly to Willow. "Are Wicca allowed to poison their bodies with alcohol?"

"Okay, fine. As long as it's not a Bloody Mary." She drank. "Not bad. Like coffee, with – wow. An aftertaste."

"The technical term is 'kick'." Giles waved a cup toward Xander.

"No thanks. When I want kick, I'll get a can of jolt from the soda machine outside."

"Right, well … skoal." Giles finished his off, and reached for the pot.

Buffy cautiously took another drink. "Bleugh."

Xander had an uneasy feeling that by dawn he'd be reliving pretty much all his family reunions.

----

Willow giggled, which Xander took to be a bad sign. Then her smile faded, and she craned her neck to look at the casket. "Did Cordelia ever get drunk?"

They all looked at each other. "Not that I remember," Angel said. "Doyle and Lorne were the drinkers in our group."

"In high school she was too cool to get drunk," Buffy added.

Sitting back, Xander allowed himself to relax a bit. The Irish coffee had turned out to be a good idea, and he wondered if that idea had been Angel's or Harmony's. It had enough kick to it to relax the group a bit, but not so much to have them reenacting his thirteenth birthday party.

"She was very cool," Willow agreed, looking morose.

Uh-oh. Maybe he'd relaxed a bit too soon. Crying jags could be just as bad as throwing furniture. Hoping to avoid that, he blurted out, "She mentioned that Doyle liked to drink. She made fun of him sometimes, but I think toward the end she genuinely liked the guy. And she said Lorne without a glass in his hand was like a designer purse without matching shoes."

It took a moment before he realized Angel was giving him a long, contemplative look. "She said that? When?"

Xander blinked. They didn't know, he realized; none of them. Well, he couldn't blame Cordelia for that -- now that he thought about it, he'd never mentioned their correspondence to anyone, either. "Cordy and I wrote letters back and forth. Not regularly; we'd lose touch once in awhile, then catch back up again. The last time I stopped hearing from her, I figured she'd just gotten busy with her new life ... turns out it was kind of the opposite."

"You exchanged letters?" Willow wrinkled her nose. "What did you talk about?"

"You know … stuff."

"Fashions?" Buffy speculated. "Were you trying to get her into Hawaiian shirts?"

"No – we just kept each other up on the goings-on. Who's dating who, the latest apocalypse – stuff like that." Xander shrugged. "We talked on the phone some, too. She was pretty open – well, you know Cordy. Sometimes I'd go through the letters, and realize how much she'd changed over time. She really did become a better person, toward the end."

"Indeed she did," Giles agreed. "My L.A. sources were quite impressed with her."

Angel shook his head. "Was there anyone from Sunnydale who wasn't spying on us?"

"I don't think so," Willow told him. "Dawn even got on a bus for L.A. once, after she and Buffy got into one of their fights right after you left, but we were waiting for her at the station."

"Bleugh." Buffy rested her cup on the floor beside her. "I've had enough."

"But you only had one cup," Angel said, smiling at her.

"No, not enough of that – enough talk about people spying on you, Mister 'Don't let Buffy know we're sneaking into Rome to rescue her from her boyfriend'. Um, but yeah, I've had enough of the Irish coffee, too."

"Buffy, seriously, The Immortal is –"

"Talk to the hand." Buffy demonstrated, speaking at her own palm. "Seriously, hand, Buffy doesn't know how to take care of herself."

Willow giggled. "Buffy, hands can't talk."

"Actually," Giles interrupted, "The hand of a Soloh Demon has a fully functioning --"

"Wait!" Xander had begun to enjoy the show, and now he started laughing. "Hand Soloh?" The others also broke into laughter, until even Giles and Angel joined in. "Yeah, we've all had too much – even me, and I haven't had any."

When they'd settled down, Angel turned to Buffy. "You're right. After all, you didn't come to L.A. and attack my girlfriend just because she's a werewolf."

The smiles died abruptly.

"You're dating a werewolf?" Buffy asked, her eyes wide.

"Bloody hell," Giles muttered. "In all this fuss, I hadn't thought of what that might mean ..."

Nina sure hadn't _looked_ like a werewolf, Xander thought, and musing on that kept him from thinking before he spoke again. "Wait a minute. What if she gets too enthusiastic while you're – I mean, bites you during – um – you know – why doesn't somebody stop me?"

"I'm immune." Angel's voice was cold, making it clear he didn't want to discuss how he knew he was immune.

Then Buffy spoke in a small voice. "Does she make you … happy? Have you – I mean, how happy are you?"

Giles was very still, his face pale.

"Not …" Angel cleared his throat. "Yes, we have … but … no. Not that happy."

Buffy sat back, a strange combination of relief and smugness on her face.

But Giles stayed tense,as if ready to spring out of the chair. "It's a dangerous game you're playing, Angel."

"I understand your concern, but –"

"Lives are at stake. One moment is all it takes, then we –"

"Giles, no." Angel looked not at Giles, but at Buffy. "The curse was very specific. That one moment – perfect happiness -- just doesn't come along every day, not with – just anyone."

Buffy, lips downturned, met his gaze evenly.

"I know what happened before. Just knowing that – remembering – keeps any moment of my life from every being perfect, ever. No matter how I might feel about Nina or anyone else, that will never change. I can never be perfectly happy again."

Giles removed his glasses and started rubbing his temples.

"Giles …" Angel faltered, then started again. "There aren't many people I've hurt more –" His gaze flicked to Buffy, then away "—than you. Nothing I could ever do will fix that, and I don't think you can possibly know how sorry –"

"Yes, I know." Xander had expected Giles to lose his temper at the thought of Angel expressing regrets, but the watcher spoke quietly. "I do know, Angel, I do understand. It's not about forgiveness; it's about fear. You see, every night I see Jenny lying there, her eyes staring sightlessly, her lifeless body arranged to cause me the greatest pain."

Angel took a deep breath, but said nothing.

"And every night I wake up in a cold sweat, experiencing the same nightmare. I dream that you become Angelus again, and begin to murder everyone I love, one by one. Every night I dream that, Angel. _Every night_."

A tear trickled down Buffy's cheek. Willow had drawn herself up, hugging her knees as she gazed in horror at Giles.

"I hold nothing against you, Angel, not anymore. I know what it's like to regret the actions of your past, to feel responsible for the lives of others. But there's a monster inside you, desperate to get out again, and I'll fear that monster for as long as I live." Giles slipped his glasses back on, and poured himself another cup of Irish coffee with unsteady hands.

Silence reigned, broken only by ragged breathing, and quiet crying from Buffy and Willow. After a long moment Xander passed a box of Kleenex to Buffy, then Giles set the cup aside and handed his handkerchief to Willow.

Willow wiped her nose, then forced a smile. "It smells like glasses."

"You may keep it," Giles intoned. "You'll be surprised to learn it's not my only one."

Okay, Xander thought, that's my cue to lighten the mood. "You probably buy them by the case, don't you, G man? I'll bet they wear out in no time, the way you scrub those glasses."

Buffy swallowed. "I bet he has a hamper marked 'handkerchiefs only', and washes a load of them on the delicate setting every week."

"Come to think of it," Willow added, "he probably has a fresh supply of glasses standing by, too."

"Good point. All that polishing probably changes the prescription." _Thank God_, Xander thought, _We're back to keeping it light and easy._

"You all need to know something." Angel spoke as if the forced jokes had never even happened.

_Oh, crap._

"I wasn't going to mention it, but it's only fair that you understand all the reasons why I think being with Nina won't send me … down that path again."

Giles picked his cup back up and took a swig.

"Cordelia and I fell in love. It was interrupted, but it was real. And it never came close to triggering the curse."

"Cordelia!" Willow gasped. "Cordelia Chase?"

Giles drained the cup. Buffy just stared, hurt plain on her face.

Almost like a physical thing, Xander finally felt that last jigsaw piece fall into place. The way Angel took charge of the funeral, the way he personally flew across the world to tell Cordy's friends. And, of course – _of course_ – the bleak, devastated expression Xander kept seeing on the vampire's face. The same look Xander had seen after Anya's death, every time he looked into the mirror.

Of course Angel fell for Cordy. Who wouldn't?

"I'm sorry." Angel's gaze flicked between Buffy and Xander.

After a moment – a moment in which Buffy seemed to be suppressing an emotional outburst – she gave him a thin smile. "You don't owe me an explanation. I happen to know you weren't thrilled with a couple of the people I dated, after all."

"Yeah." Angel turned to Xander, with a look that might have been hopeful.

_He respects me – worries about my feelings. I'm not "Boy" anymore. Wow._ "I already suspected. I just didn't know that I suspected."

The others looked puzzled, but Angel nodded as if it made perfect sense. "There's something else you need to know; something I hadn't planned to tell you."

"Wow," Willow murmured. "Something else."

"I was losing my way … starting to think I'd screwed up beyond repair. I wasn't sure what I should do about it. But then, just last week, Cordelia came to me. She saved me. Saved my life, helped me defeat my demons – without and within. She set me back on track again."

"That's my Cordy," Xander whispered, before Angel's words sank in. "Wait a minute. Just last week? I thought Cordy never came out of her coma."

"She didn't."

"But then –" Willow stopped in mid sentence. "Oh." She glanced over her shoulder, toward the casket.

"So." Giles also turned toward where Cordelia's body rested, and after a moment Buffy did, too.

Xander exchanged an understanding look with Angel, possible the first time they'd seen completely eye to eye. There was no point in looking at the coffin – the body had nothing to do with this discussion.

"Well," Giles said after a moment, "we already knew spirits were watching over us. I don't believe anyone ever told you, Angel, but not long after Sunnydale was destroyed we encountered the spirits of some old friends – including Jenny Calendar."

Angel's eyes widened. "You did? What did she say?"

"Not to blame myself. That it was Angelus who killed her, and no one else." He shrugged, looking embarrassed. "The same thing everyone told me."

"Tara was there that day," Willow added quietly. "And again, just before you got to our room in Star's Hollow. If Tara's spirit can still be around, why not Cordelia's?"

"Cordelia's spirit _is_ still around." Buffy's voice was just as quiet. "She called me – just before you got to my apartment."

"Called you – on the phone?" Willow frowned. "Just before --?"

"Yeah – a lot of coincidences there, Wil. She told me things were going to get bad in L.A., and that I needed to get back to work."

Giles nodded, in sudden realization. "She's the one who told you all those things – and just before we arrived. No wonder you were still upset."

"Yeah, I had to get it from a dead person. You want to tell me what's going on in L.A.?"

But Angel could only turn his hands upward. "Honestly, it's no worse there than usual – which granted, isn't saying much. I can't imagine what's coming that's worse than what we've already handled. Wolfram and Hart is still a threat, but we're trying to change things from within."

"Good luck," Giles murmured.

Buffy shook her head. "We'll talk about it later. The point is, Cordelia was clearly there with us, all along."

"Our guardian angel." Willow looked at Angel. "So to speak."

Xander remembered that moment in the plane, when he thought he saw Cordy's reflection and turned to see the seat beside him had been moved. In that brief glimpse she'd seemed so relaxed, so … happy. He accepted the Kleenex box that was being passed around, and dabbed at his eye.

"Almost dawn. It's time." Angel rose to his feet and walked to an alcove along one wall, then emerged with a champagne bucket. "I don't have any glasses, so drain your Irish coffee."

Buffy immediately did so. "I needed that. Bleugh."

Angel filled each glass. "Cordelia wouldn't have wanted blood, or coffee, or even Irish coffee for her send off. This is her favorite brand of champagne, some of the rarest and most expensive – which I think is why it was her favorite. I never saw her drink any … she'd just talk about it, the way some people would talk about a priceless antique."

Xander smiled, and felt the day's tensions flow out of him as he sank back into the cushions. "She not only watched over us, she made sure that by the time we gathered here, we'd have no reason to be sad."

They raised their glasses. "To Cordelia," Giles said. "Her sharp wit and her sharp tongue." They drank.

"To Cordy," Willow offered. "She grew on you."

"To Cordelia." Buffy sent a sly smile toward Angel. "She had great taste -- in men."

"To Cordelia." Angel's hand trembled, just a bit. "She helped the helpless."

Xander's throat tightened, and for a moment he didn't think he could get it out. But he held his cup high. "To Cordy. She loved, and was loved."

As one should at a wake, they stayed until morning. All six of them.

_**END **_


End file.
